Smooth the Path to Heaven
by Lorelei Jane
Summary: The Exile rescues Revan.  The story of them reuniting with the ones they love, and rebuilding the Jedi Order.  I own nothing.  Please read and review!
1. Prologue

Author's note: Well, I'm back, and while this isn't a sequel to _A Match for the Mandalore,_ it will feature our favorite characters from time to time. How often, and to what degree, I'm not sure yet. It takes place six months from the end of the afore mentioned story, and is primarily from Ladria's point of view. I must stress that this is a love story, for the most part; much of its focus is on Carth and Revan coming to terms with five year's separation, and Ladria and Atton finding their place in a new Jedi Order, together. I hope there will be enough adventure to keep it from being a contiuous couple's counseling session :0) There's also a healthy amount of back story thrown in. Enjoy, and please read and review!

Always, LJ

* * *

The woman with no name sat in her cell, legs crossed, hands on knees, palms upwards. She was filthy; her captors allowed her only enough water to stay alive and bathing was an extra bucketful once a week. They wanted her alive; clean, healthy, or sane was not necessary. 

She couldn't remember how long she had been here. She couldn't remember why they needed her. She didn't know why sitting like this, silent and still and simply _listening_ was such a comfort. She didn't know why she felt that she should be able to escape, and actually did keep alert for opportunity. But the bars and walls were thick, she had no weapon, and while her guards were curiously open to suggestion when she spoke to them, she had been tortured often enough after doing so that she had given up asking them to let her go.

Anyone can be broken if you're willing to hurt them enough.

The prisoner didn't know her name, why she was here, or anything now except boredom, pain, and the pleasure of meditation. The last was tainted, however, as she couldn't remember enough of the universe to contemplate anything useful. She sensed her own memories and identity locked deep inside her own mind and usually pondered on that. Many times, in deep concentration, she had touched that room in her psyche, examining the lock, gently testing the mechanism to the mental door. It was firmly barred; no chink, no crack, no secret passage in.

She was puzzled about that. Strong emotion was not something she had anymore; puzzlement was about all she could muster. Her days were spent in a faint anxiety about who she was, where she was, and when they would strap her down and hurt her again. Even when they did that, she never screamed or begged for her life, or even moved much at all. Her meditation worked; she never felt agony or disgust at their actions. Most of all, she had no fear whatsoever. She had robbed them of their pleasure in her pain, and they had finally stopped the regular sessions in the white room. That was a triumph of sorts, but her broken mind had taken even that emotion away, and locked it in that secret room with no entry.

There were two images she saw in her dreams that had managed to break through the protective cocoon she had spun around her soul; or possibly had never really been put in there; she wasn't sure. One was a man, tall, brown hair lightly sprinkled with silver, with gentle hazel blue eyes. The other was a woman, small and lightly built, dark red hair smoothed back from her face, her green eyes bright but haunted.

There was a second man too, lurking behind that door in her head, but he was firmly trapped there, unable to come into the light as these two could. When she meditated, she saw this couple, and spoke to them, but they never answered, only looked at her with love. She didn't really know who they were but the comfort of their presence in her waking dreams was deep. She hid that pleasure as well. So much had been taken from her; she wasn't going to let these people disappear into that impenetrable fortress of her own mind. She did wonder about them, and suspected they were only companions that she'd invented; symptoms of her own insanity. But they had names, and she clung to them.

Carth. And Dree.

The woman with no name carefully did not smile, but gazed at these two, wishing they were real.


	2. Search

"_You're the best of us, Dree. We need you. _I_ need you. Malak and I are going, with our without you," Revan had been reduced to wheedling, which she hates, but does far more often with me than she'd like._

"_Annie, you're asking me to defy the Council," I said reasonably. "I might agree with you, but…"_

"_You know they're wrong in this," Revan said passionately. I've always cautioned her on her temper and tendency to dramatize. "How many more will die while they debate and watch? Whole worlds are being crushed into dust by the Mandalorians, and all they can do is argue. You can't watch an injured bird without helping it. You're the youngest Jedi to make Master in the history of the Order, practically. We need you, dammit!"_

"_Let me think about it," I hedged. We've never really been separated before, and I hated the thought of her and Malak going without me. But mine was always the coolest head of the three of us._

"_What's there to think about?" Revan demanded. "People are _dying_, Dree. We can turn the tide of this war, you know it."_

"_Master Vrook," I began, but Annie cut me off._

"_Master Vrook hasn't seen combat in ten years," she said scathingly. "We have. Isn't this what being Jedi is all about? Helping people, protecting them?"_

"_Of course it is," I agreed, "but we're talking about going against what the Council has ordered. They have their reasons, I'm certain of it. That they don't share them points to a very grave reason indeed."_

"_We're leaving the day after tomorrow," Revan said flatly. "I hope you'll be with us. I'm not asking again."_

_She strode away, leaving me staring after her, undecided and uneasy. As I stared at her retreating back, another Jedi turned the corner and saw me watching, a slight frown on my face._

"_Troubled, young Master Ladria?" he asked politely, brushing a lock of gold hair out of his eyes._

"_It's nothing, Master Stefan," I said, forcing myself to smile. "Just thinking."_

"_Anything you'd like to share?" he asked curiously, his mild demeanor an excellent camouflage for the sharp mind behind those summer blue eyes. _

_Master Stefan was well liked for his easy going manner and ability to draw out the most stoic of Padawan learners. The younglings flocked to him like gizka pups seeking attention, and most of the younger female Padawan and Masters harbored quiet (and occasionally not so subtle) crushes on the handsome Master. I had much the same reputation for empathy, however, and knew how to deflect the curious. I gave him a brilliant display of teeth and bowed. He moved on, giving me a bow in return._

_Revan, Malak and I had a certain reputation around the Conclave. Inseparable, they said. But I had earned the rank of Master already, and the rumor mill had it that the Indomitable Trio would soon become the Terrible Two, without my calming influence on the two passionate Padawans. I sighed. If they only knew how right they were._

That was over sixteen years ago, when I had been a seventeen year old Jedi protégé, the youngest to become Master in at least a century. I had been honored and humbled by the decision to promote me so young, and Revan and Malak, although happy for me, were terribly envious. It had put a strain on our friendship, one that I had tried hard to mend. Their decision to defy the Council and join the war against the Mandalorians had stretched that friendship to nearly the breaking point.

Revan, Malak, and Ladria…the three most gifted young Jedi to enter the hall of learning on Coruscant in decades. I don't remember not having the two of them in my life. We were playmates, dorm mates, fellow students, confidants and as close to siblings as any of us had known. Revan, the natural leader of 'we three', had dubbed me Dree saying Ladria was "too stuffy" and often referred to Malak as simply Mak. Most of the Padawan learners, including Malak, called Revan Rev; to me she was always Annie. I was the only one who could get away with it, not even Malak dared. It started in retaliation for Dree, which I secretly liked, and publicly scorned.

And now…Malak dead, irrevocably drowned in darkness. Revan – my Annie, that bright, passionate flame that had so shaped my life, had killed him. I understood, and would have done the same. I was grateful she tried to turn him back before she put end to the twisted life he had become. Our Mak was gone. And where in the galaxy was Annie?

I'd been searching six months now, and every lead had come to a dead end. I fervently wished Visas were here, if only to go over that scrap of information we had gleaned from Bastila. I have never felt so alone, even when I was in exile.

But I couldn't contact anyone; that path lead to disaster. One transmission would send Atton after me, and that I could not allow.

Pushing aside the thought of Atton, I thought about that day at the Enclave. I doubted Master Stefan remembered it; he gave no sign when I had met him again on Onderon.

I had gone with Mak and Annie, of course. The explosive end to that war had caused me to cut off my connection to the Force. I could still hear in my dreams the screams of the dying, as a whole planet of souls were obliterated. By Revan's command, but by my hand.

I sometimes smelled the choking smoke and the bitter metal taste of blood in my mouth as Bao Dur and I dealt with the carnage. I had invited the inventor of the shadow generators to the bridge once the devices were in place. The Zabrak had accepted, mostly to please me, I think; we had become friends of a sort, although he was much too aware of our differences in rank, race, and my status as Jedi to be entirely at ease with the notion. Just as he had reached my side, the generators had gone off - a full two minutes early. I had set the time myself; it took everyone by surprise. The shock wave had hit the fleet with the force of a tidal wave. I remember the dreamlike sensation of watching my executive officer being decapitated by a flying chunk of metal while curiously, nothing touched me. Computer banks had been ripped from the walls and the central post had collapsed.

Shouting evacuation orders through the chaos, trying as calmly and swiftly as possible to get the bridge personnel to safety, I found the Iridonian trapped under a heavy chunk of steel support beam, pinned by one arm. There was no time to wait for a demolition crew; the whole bridge was about to be exposed to space.

"Get out of here, General!" he'd shouted, his eyes molten blue and face rigid from pain. "No time to waste; leave me."

"The hell I will," I snapped in my best commander's voice, and lit my 'saber.

Praying he'd forgive me, I cut Bao Dur free of the beam with my lightsaber. He went limp for a moment, but stayed conscious. I had just dragged him to his feet when the full force of the dying planet hit me. The last voice I heard in my head before everything went blank was Bao Dur's, the shock and pain of losing his arm overridden by sheer terror for me.

Bleeding from eyes, ears, nose and mouth, stumbling in shock and soul-tearing pain, I have no memory of him throwing me bodily, one-armed, through the door of the bridge and sealing it behind the survivors moments before the hull had been breached. He should have been in shock himself, if not outright unconscious from the pain of his sudden amputation; the Force only knows how he managed to hang on. I certainly don't.

I woke three days later on Revan's flagship, weak and blind, both literally and to the Force. I remember insisting that Bao Dur be cared for when I woke, at my expense if necessary. Revan had promised, and kept it; when I saw him again fifteen years later I was impressed with the quality of his prosthetic arm, if guilty for the reason for it.

It took me a week to regain my sight. I thought the Force was dead within me for good. They told me I was awake those three days that are still an utter blank to me. Not even Malak would tell me what I'd said or did; when I did come to myself, I was restrained. I learned of the execution of the Mandalore and the end of the war once I regained my vision, but I was too weak to protest the brutal measures Revan had employed. I merely turned to the wall, and willed myself to sleep.

Crippled and sick at heart, I couldn't continue with Revan and Malak on their quest to track down the source of the evil they sensed. I had tried, even going so far as to accompany them to the Unknown Regions. And, helpless to stop it, watched as the two closest people in the world to me slowly succumbed to the Dark Side. I had begged then to turn back, come with me to the Council and face their judgment, but they were bent on power then, and scorned me as a broken Jedi, not even worthy to join their ranks. A year later I had fled back to known space, and sought out the Council, accepting their punishment of exile.

When the Jedi Civil War started, I was deep in uncharted territory, under an assumed name: Naasade. Mandoa for nobody. I was nobody; not Jedi, nor general, not friend nor lover. Dree was gone; Ladria was a dim memory. The designation was fitting, and I did my best to atone for my sins.

My memory is hazy about how I came back. From what I can piece together, along with my far too few flashes of memory, Kriea found me, and set me on the path to rediscovering the Force. She used my pain and desire to be of use to lure me back into the Outer Rim. When I woke on Peragus, the only thing I could remember for a short time was my name. The only sources of information available were corrupted computer files, a cryptic old woman of unknown origin and intentions, and a sarcastic smuggler. When the three of us escaped, I had regained a good deal of my lost memories, but still had no clear idea how I had arrived on Peragus, or came into possession of the Ebon Hawk.

"_I knew it would happen sooner or later," I heard when I entered the detention room. "But I even impress myself with the quality of my hallucination."_

_I stared at the prisoner, a tall, handsome, well-built man with dark brown hair and eyes. Something about him made it hard for me to look away, and I was acutely aware of being clad in only standard issue underwear, carrying a plasma torch for a weapon. I wasn't embarrassed; I never am about something as natural as skin. But he was looking at me in a way I hadn't appreciated in a long time, and it made me uncomfortable. There was frank admiration on his face and gleaming from those dark eyes. To cover my sudden uneasiness, I drew myself to my full height and glared at him. He grinned back, and winked. My scowl deepened._

"_What makes you think I'm a hallucination?" I asked crisply._

"_Well, they stopped feeding me a couple days ago," he answered. "The bastards. But then, the droids all went insane, so I suppose they had other problems. I've been wondering for a while if I was the only one left."_

"_I haven't seen anyone else," I admitted._

"_Are you that Jedi they were talking about?" he asked curiously. "Or are you really just a product of my hunger induced mania? If you're just in my head, don't bother to let me out, okay? I'll just bask in the sight of you, and die a happy man."_

"_Does that really work?" I asked, suddenly amused. "Because as far as pickup lines go, that's got to be the worst ever."_

"_Hey, you're_ my_ hallucination, got it? Don't give me attitude," he gave me a mock glower._

"_I'm afraid I'm not a figment of your fuzzy head," I said, trying not to laugh._

"_Then would it be too much to ask to let me out of this cell?" the handsome dark-eyed stranger asked with a charming smile. "I'm not at all keen on dying of starvation."_

_My impulse was just to let him out, but having only woken a couple of hours ago and my memories still being spotty at best, I thought caution was the better course._

"_Want to tell me why you're in jail?" I asked warily._

"_It was a misunderstanding," he said easily. "A mix-up with paperwork. They thought I was a smuggler, and decided it was best to hold me until my documentation came through."_

"_And you didn't have it on you why?" I raised an eyebrow at him, and he smiled again. I didn't believe him for a moment, and truthfully, he didn't seem to expect me to._

"_I was given the wrong datapad at the last port of call," he said promptly. "Didn't realize it 'til I got here."_

"_Right," I said, letting my skepticism show._

"_Look, I haven't eaten for two days, and it sounds like everyone is dead. It's cruel to just let me rot here. I thought Jedi were about giving people a chance." His tone was almost wheedling, and I was forcibly reminded of Revan. _

_That brought on a slew of memories, and I almost staggered from the flood. Only my training kept me upright, and I barely remembered what sort of training that was, anyway. I gave myself a moment, masking my struggle by staring at the stranger in the cell with as close to a confidently cautious expression as I could muster. His eyes narrowed a little, as if sensing something going on he couldn't see. That served to make me even more uneasy._

"_What is your name?" I asked when I thought I had control of my voice again._

"_Atton Rand," he answered readily enough. "And yours, sweetheart?"_

"_Ladria Windbreak," I said shortly. "And I'm not your sweetheart."_

"_Ladria," he mused. "That's a lovely name. Sort of a mouthful though. Anyone ever call you Dria?"_

"_No one that wants me to let them out of a jail cell," I shot back._

"_Ladria it is, then," he said promptly. "And are you Jedi?"_

"_Not anymore," I answered, and lowered the force shields._

I sighed to myself. It didn't matter what I did, I still thought about Atton about a million times a day. At this rate, I would be well in to old age and senility before I managed to get through an hour without examining another memory, or wishing to hear his voice. Pazzak bores me to tears, but I'd happily sit through a whole tournament, listening to his running commentary on strategy, if he were only here.

Resolutely, I turned my thoughts elsewhere. I'd had enough problems with memory loss, both induced by circumstance or involuntarily impressed upon me that I spent a good deal of time each day going over my history, searching for gaps. Plus, it was lonely with just the droids for company; my thoughts kept me sane. I took up the story again in my head where I'd left off before thoughts of Atton intruded.

Being shot down on Telos and waking to a familiar voice calling me General made most of the holes in my memory come back. Disoriented and injured, my shipmates unconscious, I allowed Bao Dur to tend my hurts and bring me up to date on the state of the galaxy, as far as he knew it. Seeing his face steadied me, the slow regaining of my Force connection grounded me again. His quiet devotion and loyalty was a soothing balm to my shattered psyche.

"_It's good to see you again, General," was the first thing I heard when I coughed and sputtered my way awake on the surface of Telos. I knew that voice, and I turned my head toward the sound, blinking in disbelief._

_Many humans consider Zabrak to be ugly. I'm not one of them. The man that greeted my startled gaze was so tall he seemed to tower over me, even crouched lightly on the balls of his feet applying a kolto pack to my aching head. Blueish skin, tribal tattoos snaking from the collar of his shirt and tracing the lines of his face, horns spaced around his bald skull, powerfully built with wide shoulders, barrel chest and arms bigger than my legs, he made the average Mandalorian look like a gangly teenager. But he possessed the gentlest blue eyes in the galaxy and I found myself staring into them, finding an odd sort of peace. He was the most beautiful sight I'd seen in years. I struggled for a time to remember where I knew that voice and face; I found my hand touching his cheek, just for a moment._

"_The others?" I rasped, remembering Atton and Kriea. It also bought me a minute to bring my memories in focus._

"_They'll be okay. Both of them are unconscious, but not badly hurt. You were the only one bleeding badly, General."_

"_Not…general…anymore," I said faintly, still coughing. I closed my eyes against the throbbing in my temples and wished the planet would stop spinning around me._

"_I'm sorry, I can't help but think of you like that, General. I'm just an old war dog at heart, I guess. Wouldn't have figured you'd drop out of the sky on me, though."_

_I opened my eyes again, and his blue eyes were bright. I smiled with difficulty, and reached for his hand, wincing. He took it without comment, squeezing gently. I realized that it was warm, but seemed…off. I looked closer, still in that unreal haze that indicated a severe head injury mending faster than it ought to. The Iridonian replaced the spent kolto pack with a fresh one and soon I felt clearer._

"_Bao Dur," I breathed as the memories flooded back, and squeezed the hand tighter. "They did a good job with it," I commented, admiring the artificial limb and unconsciously running my other hand along its length. "I'm glad I didn't cripple you for life."_

"_If you hadn't cut my arm off, I'd be dead," he said, shrugging. "For a long time, I wasn't sure if I wanted to thank you for that or not."_

"_I don't blame you," I said sincerely, if a little weakly. "For a long time I wasn't sure I forgave you for throwing me through that door, either."_

"_You were in bad shape; I wasn't sure you'd make it. By the time I was out of the hospital, you were long gone with General Revan. All I could find out was you survived; no one could tell me anything more. I was glad that you were alive, though, and when I realized I was, I started to forgive you for seeing to it I lived, too." The blue eyes were penetrating, but the voice was as soft and smooth as ever._

"_That was about all I found out about you, too," I said softly. "I tried to find out more, but by the time I was in any shape to get back, we were in the Unknown Regions," I said regretfully. "Revan promised you'd be cared for though, and I trusted her word. I'm sorry I abandoned you."_

"_You didn't," he said quietly. "You were a general; I was just a major that fixed things. I knew you would have stopped by during my recovery if you could have, but I saw you, General, and believe me, I'm surprised you're talking to me now. You were a mess." He smiled, a genuine expression that sent warmth through me, better than a kolto pack any day._

"_We were friends, of a sort, though," I said softly. "I regretted not being there, not knowing about your recovery. I'm sorry."_

"_Nothing to apologize for, General." His tone was absolutely sincere, and for an instant I wanted to cry; I'd cut this man's arm off, for Force sake, and _he_ wants _me_ to be okay with it._

"_It's not a general anymore, Bao Dur," I said firmly. "I asked you to call me by name once, remember? Ladria. You can call me that now, surely?" I pronounced it slowly, teasing him a little, _Lay-dree-ah.

_He gave me that sidewise glance I remembered, the one that said he heard and understood and would show no disrespect…but would do what he thought he should, regardless of my orders._

"_As you wish, General," he said, eyes twinkling back, and that was that._

_We were silent for a little while as Bao Dur checked on Atton and Kriea. I hadn't recovered enough of my healing to be much use, and was still a bit dizzy, in any case. I could feel some internal injuries slowly knitting back together, and didn't think it was wise to move yet. Enough of my healing was working, however, for me to at least evaluate my companion's conditions, and found the Iridonian's diagnosis was right; they'd be fine. _

_Bao Dur returned to my side, this time sitting comfortably, half facing me. I was propped against a boulder which wasn't all that large compared to his shoulders; he was sitting very close. When he spoke, I could tell something was on his mind, something he didn't quite want to share, but his words gave nothing away as to what it was._

"_For a long time, I feared you hadn't survived your injuries and either no one knew, or no one would tell me. And things sort of fell apart when Generals Revan and Malak disappeared with half the Republic fleet; there was no more news of you at all. When the Jedi Civil War started, I didn't enlist again. I had done enough damage on Malachor. And… it was…confusing, to me." He looked me straight in the eye, and I couldn't look away. "I wasn't sure what side _you_ were on, and I…well, I couldn't fight against you. And I had had enough of war; I wanted to build something. So I stayed out of it."_

"_I don't blame you," I said softly. I looked away from the intensity of his gaze. "I wasn't…directly involved in that conflict. If that makes a difference. If I could have been, we would have been on the same side."_

"_It makes a difference," the Iridonian said quietly._

_I looked up, and his nearness sent a small shiver through me. "I'm glad to see you, Bao Dur," I said, hoping my voice was steadier than my insides. "And I'm glad you're whole." I touched his arm again by reflex._

"_More than I have been, now, General," he said cryptically, and I was too tired to ask him what he meant._

The fact that Bao Dur knew me so well irritated Atton to no end, for a while. Unknown to me at the time, it enraged Kriea as well; she was bent on corrupting me, luring me to the Dark Side; my friendship with the gentle Zabrak, to her eyes, kept me too in touch with what was good and honorable in the galaxy. What she could never understand was that I had faced the darkness once; my incomplete memories allowed me to understand that much. I had no desire to see my own face in that twisted abyss, ever. I may not have felt my soul worthy of the Force, but I wasn't going to throw it away.

Regret, and pain, and sorrow, even self-loathing is one thing; damnation another.

I was wandering the Ebon Hawk aimlessly, trying to focus my thoughts. Remembrance can be invaluable in that, but my wandering mind was growing too inward again. Turning decisively on one heel, I sought out the droids.

T-3 was doing maintenance on the engines again. I watched; he gets testy when I try and lend a hand. For a droid, he's quite proprietary about the ship.

"How's it going, T-3?" I asked pleasantly.

He answered with a friendly series of beeps. I nodded, pleased.

"Yes, Bao Dur is an excellent mechanic. I'm glad he gave you that upgrade too. All is well?"

More beeps, and I patted the little droid affectionately.

"Glad to hear it. Let me know when the ship's ready; we'll head to the next coordinates then."

I headed to the garage to consult my only other companion, HK-47. The assassin droid has always made me uneasy; his bloodthirstiness outdid any Mandalorian at the height of their power. Or Iridonian, for that matter; even the Mandoa fear their kind. It always bemused me that one of the few Zabrak that I had known well was normally the gentlest soul I'd ever encountered. But I had seen him in a rage; the reputation of his race was well earned.

I had learned the inflections of Bao Dur's language on my travels in the Unknown Regions. It is a complicated dialect, one of the most challenging I have ever encountered. I was gifted in languages, although woefully short of Revan's genius in that respect. She could learn any tongue after hearing it spoken even casually, as if plucking the meaning and syntax straight from the speaker's mind. Which, most likely, was exactly what she did; she always could hear thoughts better than me. My talent was much more modest, but impressive by most people's standards, I supposed. I was unable to actually speak Bao Dur's tongue, but I had learned enough of the subtleties of inflection to apply them to other languages I knew. It's nearly impossible to learn Iridoni without having done so from birth. Megari, the newest companion on board the Ebon Hawk before I left, had been about three when she had learned. According to Bao Dur, her skill was as good as a human could get.

I was distracting myself with trivia, a trick I'd used since childhood. Dealing with unpleasant situations is always easier for me if I approached them with a calm mind. The assassin droid stood silent in the garage, and I spoke to engage his sensors.

"Query: how may I serve, Master?" the faintly sardonic tone from the synthesized voice got on my nerves. "Hopeful inquiry: is there someone you need me to kill?"

"Not yet, HK-47," I answered easily enough. "We'll be heading to the next coordinates as soon as T-3 gives me the go-ahead."

"Anticipatory statement: we will encounter another ship full of Sith meatbags and kill them," HK-47 was pleased.

"Possibly," I shrugged. "Report the state of your armament and functions."

"Resigned statement: fully functional and top repair, as usual. Irritated observation: you know I report any repairs needed immediately, Master; your redundant questions are unnecessary and irritatingly human."

"Perhaps," I said shortly. "Call it pre-battle routine; I like to double check everything when I anticipate a fight. We've had this conversation."

"Qualified agreement: many times, Master, but not with the same words every time. Puzzled obserservation: what I cannot understand is your inability to understand the logic of taking steps that we do not have it again. Resigned acceptance: but you are my Master; it is your will that will be done, even if it is a pointless and irritating habit to ask unnecessary questions."

I'd never encountered a droid that could sound so smug. I stifled the daily urge to shut it down completely and shove it out of an airlock. Better yet, strip down its components and make a food processor out of them. That might cure it of its superiority complex. On the other hand, it would probably poison the next crew that used it, simply out of spite. I refrained from sighing, and merely nodded.

"Yes, you're right, I am the one you follow," – I hated being called Master by it – "and what I say goes. Good of you to remember that." I said evenly.

"Statement: I remember everything entered into my databanks, Master," the droid said. "Irritated observation: although you do tend to clutter up my memory banks with repetitive trivia. Hopeful inquiry: is this a tactic to pinpoint a pattern in human meatbag behavior?" its metal head cocked to one side.

"Hardly," I snapped. "You push your limits of your programming; I merely remind you of your function."

"Factual argument: but you do not use my primary function, Master. Wheedling question: are you certain you have no one that needs to be dispatched? Proud statement: I will track them to the ends of the galaxy and bring their squishy bloody bits back to you at your command," its red eyes flashed.

"No, HK-47," I said irritably. "And thanks for the mental image."

"Satisfied statement: you're welcome, Master. Hopeful invitation: please feel free to ask for more."

"Right." I turned and went to the cockpit.

In truth, HK-47's ability to track a target had proved useful. It had agreed to some prodding by me and T-3 and we'd successfully downloaded his stalking (no better word for it) program into the Ebon Hawk's databanks. I'd spent days inputting everything I thought could be useful in tracking down Revan, and the program was running continuously, extrapolating data and coming up with leads. Between that and my instincts I had hope she would be located.

The computer's current suggestion was to fly to coordinates that were likely to encounter Sith ships and use the ingenious infiltrating program Bao Dur had invented to download as much data as possible from their mainframes, while pretending to be an injured smuggling ship. The program worked through the jamming system, which we would naturally enough employ if we were smuggling things. Timing, however, was crucial; with only me and the droids, if we got hauled in by a tractor beam on a big ship, escape would be tricky. I didn't relish taking on an entire warship, no matter how skilled HK-47 was at killing people. We had the Force on our side so far, though, and had encountered only ships slightly larger than the Ebon Hawk.

We had, however, been fired upon often enough that I was afraid we were pushing out luck. Sooner or later, we'd catch the attention of the Sith, and _they _would start hunting _us_. We'd left no witnesses yet; I wanted to keep it that way. I silently blessed my favorite Iridonian for upgrading the cannons before I'd left.

T-3 commed me, and I headed to the cockpit to change course. Taking the pilot's seat, which still felt like Atton's, even after six months of flying alone, I punched in the coordinates, and felt the familiar jolt as we entered hyperspace. When the stars resumed their twinkle, they were in an unfamiliar pattern. I double checked the nav computer; we were in the right place. I quickly powered down to an aimless drift and sat back to wait.

The waiting is the worst.

I combated anxiety and boredom, a horrid combination as any soldier could tell you, by meditating and searching for a glimmer of that presence I knew so well. I had a bond with Annie; I had thought it was stronger than the one she had shared with Bastila, or mine with Kriea. I could understand why, when I first felt the Force again on Peragus, I didn't instantly sense Revan – my powers took some time to regain control of. Even my healing, which had been the strongest ability I possessed, had taken weeks to regain its full strength. I had been wary as well of opening my mind sufficiently enough to sense other minds; the last time that had happened I had lost my powers. But Kriea had invaded my head, and with that slender toe in the door, I had heard the echoes of the deaths of the miners, and the horrifying emptiness of the Harbringer.

Now that I had full control over my Force connection, I was puzzled why I couldn't sense Annie at all. I _knew_ she wasn't dead; there's a difference to that sensation; and I would feel it if she had fallen to the Dark Side again, or was blocking our bond. But this was simply blank. I feared when I found her, there might be nothing left of Annie.

Kriea had accused me of forming Force bonds with anyone who followed me, even for a short time. The council had agreed with this assessment, and tried to strip me – again - of my connection to the Force, believing it too dangerous. I was going to let them, the weight of my guilt for my part in the Mandalorian Wars, and the resulting wound in the Force, was almost too much to bear. But Kriea had intervened, and killed the remaining Council to save me.

_They found me on Dantooine, numb with shock and grief. Master Kavar in particular had always been kind to me, and I was taking special care with his body. The hours had passed completely without my noticing, and when Atton, Bao Dur, Mira, Visas, Disciple, and Canderous approached I was puzzled. I had told them to wait, hadn't I?_

"_What happened? Why didn't you comm us? Where the hell have you been?" Atton asked sharply, rushing up to me and apparently checking for damage. I stared at him, not comprehending._

"_They're all dead," I said dully, and went back to straightening out Master Kavar's robes._

_I had managed to get the rest of the Masters on makeshift funeral daises, and attempted to lift Kavar's body on to his. But I was so tired, and Bao Dur gently put me aside, tenderly lifting the body of my old friend into place. Atton stared at me, and if I wasn't so weary I could have followed his thoughts, that lightning brain of his summing up the situation._

"_You're dead on your feet," he said gently, and I winced at his choice of words. "Let me help you. You need sleep."_

"_I can't," I said. "Not until I'm finished here. They deserve their rites."_

_But Disciple was already sprinkling the bodies with the sacred chemicals and Bao Dur was fashioning torches, Mira and Visas assisting. Canderous stood a little apart, silent and watchful as always. Atton tried to draw me to him, but I flinched away, and I saw the momentary hurt in his eyes._

"_What happened here, Ladria?" he asked, careful not to touch me. "Where's Kriea?"_

"_Gone," I said shortly. "She killed them all."_

"_Why?" Canderous asked unexpectedly. I looked up, and despite the Helm completely obscuring his face, I swear I could see sympathy. I didn't want that; it almost too much to bear. But Canderous was the one person in our party that might not blame me for the destruction I'd caused; ironic, as I had caused _him_ the most of all, on Malachor V._

"_Because they wanted to kill me," I answered simply. "They should have; she didn't let them."_

"_But…" Atton swallowed hard. "Why would they…"_

"_It was me," I said, turning to him. "_I'm _the rip in the Force. I cut _myself_ off; the council didn't strip me of my powers. And then I found the Force again. They were going to take it away, and that probably would have killed me. Kriea killed them instead. I couldn't stop her."_

"_Do you want to die?" Atton asked very quietly._

"_No. But I don't deserve to live," I said, and started to cry. _

_My shipmates looked on, shocked; I never cried, or yelled, or blazed with fury. Not where I could be seen. But Atton just looked at me with infinite love and understanding. And then I realized all of them were looking at me like that, even Canderous, who had taken off his Helm. Or his version of it, anyway._

"_No, Dria, no," Atton said, and pulled me into his arms. "Whatever you did, it was because you care so much. They were wrong, do you understand? They were _wrong_. The old witch had it right, for once. You of all people deserve to live."_

_Bao Dur was next to me now, a gentle hand on my shoulder, and I felt the look that passed between them, even though my face was buried in Atton's chest. Hysterically, I realized it was the first time he'd really held me, and I sobbed harder. I leaned into the two men that loved me most, and wished they didn't. Because then I could die and not hurt anyone, and mend what I had broken._

_When the bodies had been consumed, we left the ashes to be taken where the wind wills, and made our way back to the Ebon Hawk. I had gotten a hold of myself, and drawing on my training, was able to walk back without assistance and stay alert. But I was silent; speaking was too much an effort._

_As we boarded, Atton turned to me. "We should stay at least a day, let you rest."_

"_No," I said flatly. "Get me out of here."_

"_All right," he agreed. "Where?"_

"_Head to Nar Shadaa," I ordered. "We'll take stock there. Wake me when we arrive."_

"_Aye, Captain," Atton said without a trace of sarcasm, and slipped into the ship._

_I went straight to my cabin, and not bothering to undress I fell on to the bunk, utterly exhausted. Somewhere during my sleep, I thought I felt Atton come in, and to my grateful amazement, I didn't dream._

I pulled myself sharply back from this memory; I didn't want to think of Atton now. I must be more tired than I knew. I set the ship to alert me if another vessel approached, adjusted my seat to a more comfortable angle, and slept.


	3. and Rescue

_Smuggler's Moon. The last time we were here, I was certain everything would be explained when we got to Dantooine. I was right, but wrong that the mission was over. It really had only begun. I thought back to that week we'd spent here, most of it with Bao Dur, and I was grateful for the time he and I had spent together. He had given me something precious, and because of it, I had the strength I needed to heal. I drew on that again, and smiled at my XO. He winked, and went back to endlessly checking over the ship._

_I hadn't expected the excitement of Jennet bursting into our lives, or Canderous' complete surrender to her. But after the fight with the Hutt, and Jennet's near death, I realized all of us needed some more time to recoup before continuing. As we left Jennet sleeping in the hotel room Canderous had insisted on taking her to, we all scattered to our rooms. As I was preparing to sleep, the door comm buzzed. I had known that it was Atton, but was surprised at how unsure he looked standing in the hall._

"_Can I come in?" he asked, and I stepped aside wordlessly._

"_I need to ask you something," he said abruptly, not fidgeting, but giving the impression he would be if he wasn't so good about hiding his emotions. I doubted anyone but me would notice his unease._

"_All right," I nodded. "What is it?"  
_

"_Bao Dur. Are you going back to him?" he asked bluntly, and looked away._

_I regarded him thoughtfully, trying to find the words. "There's no 'back' to go to," I said finally. "We're friends; possibly he's the best friend I have."_

"_He loves you," Atton said quietly. "He's good to you, and he'd die for you. I thought, maybe with the Council gone…it would be all right for you two to be together. And I know you love him."_

"_Yes," I said simply._

"_I just wanted you to know that I'm happy for you, if that's what you want. You deserve someone like him," Atton said, his voice light. But I saw the tiny signs of anxiety all over him._

"_It's not what either of us want," I answered carefully. "He's a wonderful man, but he deserves someone that loves him with their whole heart. I hope he finds it."_

"_And you don't?" Atton asked casually._

"_No," I said honestly. "I love him, and there will always be room in my heart for him, and all my friends. But no, my whole heart isn't with him."_

_I saw the tension leave him, to be replaced with a different kind. He stepped closer, invading my personal space, and my whole body tingled from his nearness. _

"_Where is your heart?" he almost whispered. _

_I looked into his dark eyes, soft and anxious and wanting me. "I'm not…good at this," I said, and looked away._

_His hand slipped under my chin and gently made me look at him. "You're better at love than any of us," he said quietly. "Why is it so hard to love me?"_

"_Because if I do, you'll go away," I blurted, and was horrified both at my confession and that tears were starting to pool in my eyes. "Everyone I ever really loved did."_

"_Who, everyone?" the puzzlement on his face was genuine._

"_Revan. Malak. The Order. They were ones I loved most, and they left. The Council cast me out, and is now gone. Malak's dead, and Revan's missing. I never saw her again after I left them in the Unknown Regions. I might have saved them if I'd stayed." The words were spilling out of me, almost of their own volition. I'd never voiced this to anyone._

"_No you couldn't," Atton said forcefully. "You would have been turned yourself. You chose the harder path. Revan came back; Malak couldn't."_

"_But she didn't come back to me," I said tonelessly. "She didn't try to find me."_

"_Maybe she did," Atton said gently. "Maybe that's why she left in the first place, after the Star Forge mission."_

"_I was so lost," I turned away, choking back the tears. "I didn't know who I was anymore. I don't even remember how I got back with Kriea. I didn't feel Mak die, or Annie's return to the Light. I can't feel her now."_

"_You call the most brutal Sith Lord in millennia _Mak_?" Atton asked in astonishment, and I couldn't help but laugh a little. "And Annie? What's with that?"_

"_She called me Dree, and Malak, Mak, when we were Padawan. I called her Annie, because it irritated her." I said with a watery chuckle._

"_Dree," he said softly, and I felt his hand on my shoulder, turning me around. He wiped the tears from my eyes, and tilted my chin again. "Dree," he said again, and I shivered. No one had used that name since Revan and Malak. No one knew it anymore. "I like that, but you're Dria to me. And I'm not leaving. I'll never leave you."_

"_How can you be sure?" I said involuntarily. If the answer didn't matter so much, I would have been furious with myself for being so pathetically vulnerable. I was so used to being careful; even with Bao Dur I had kept a part of me to myself. Only with Revan and Malak had I been all who I was._

"_Because I love you, Dria," Atton said, his dark eyes gentle and open, not hiding anything from me. "I've never felt this way before, didn't think I deserved it in any case. But I can't help it; you got to me the first time I saw you, and it wasn't just because you were half naked. I saw you, and I was gone. Just like that. I couldn't leave you if I tried." He swallowed. "Can you love me, just a little?"_

"_I do love you," I whispered. "More than a little."_

"_How much?" He asked, gently teasing me with his eyes._

"_My whole heart," I said so softly he leaned over to hear. I didn't want to look at him when I said it, but he held my chin firmly and I couldn't look away. "But I'm scared."_

"_So am I, sweetheart," Atton said._

_His kiss was gentle, undemanding, and so tender I wanted to weep. The wildness I knew was in him was held firmly in check, and I melted against him. I had wanted this so much that I was amazed I was here. My mouth opened, and with a groan I felt some of his control break free. The kiss grew stronger, and suddenly I was being consumed by a bright flame of desire. It roared between us, and I was no longer afraid._

I jerked awake at the sound of the klaxon and the dream memory was ripped apart like cobwebs. A ship was in the vicinity. I shut down the noise, and scanning the computer readout, I saw it was a small Sith transport. I engaged the jamming sequence and waited, holding my breath. One minute. Three. Five. The ship was close enough they couldn't possibly miss us. It drew along side, and I swear it paused. Then it moved on, and engaged its hyperdrive. I let my breath out in relief. Apparently its mission was too important to take the time to investigate a dead ship. I thanked my ability to cloud minds enough they didn't see on their computer a clear life sign.

Anxiously, I checked out what had been downloaded from the transport. The stalking program was already systematically sorting the data, and shortly it gave me something I had been praying to find. The transport was heading to a small moon that housed a prison. A very exclusive, secret prison. They were bringing an expert interrogator to deal with its only occupant. The prisoner was Jedi, and had not given any useful information in the year they had been there. The sex of the prisoner was not stated. The orders were to give it three days, and if nothing could be gleaned, execute said prisoner.

Included in the information was the almost casual statement that this captive was insane.

My blood chilled. If it was Annie, and I was betting (or maybe praying) it was, that explained why I couldn't sense her anymore. If she could no longer recognize herself or anyone else, our bond might be cut off.

_But no_, I thought suddenly. _Unless she was cut off from the Force, I would still feel _something_. What have you done, Annie?_

Could she have locked _herself_ away in her own mind? I thought it more than possible; Annie had always possessed a strong ability to control not only other minds, but her own. She compartmentalized things to the point of complete disassociation if the situation warranted it. Locking away her own identity wouldn't be as difficult for her as it seem.

It was a lot of _ifs_. I couldn't be sure this prisoner _was_ Revan. But my luck had to change sometime. Even if it wasn't her, this unknown Jedi needed help. I commed T-3 and set a course to follow the transport.

It didn't take long to reach the prison moon. The data from the transport ship had given me landing codes; no one challenged us as we docked. The transport was fast, but the Ebon Hawk was faster; we had arrived before it, even with the head start. There were only six people aboard the transport in any case. The prison had twenty. Not bad odds, I considered. HK-47 will be pleased, at least, and I suppressed a shiver. I don't enjoy taking life myself, even ones as evil and dangerous as Sith troopers.

I gathered my droids and cautiously exited the Ebon Hawk. No one in the docking bay besides maintenance droids, who utterly ignored us. Good. We took them out anyway, just to be sure. The three of us found our way to a computer terminal and T-3 downloaded the schematics of the prison. Then we quietly slipped into the only other available docking bay, found cover, and waited.

The transport that we had 'followed' landed shortly, ejecting five of its six passengers. I spotted the interrogator immediately; the senior officer, one of junior rank at his side whom I assumed was his assistant. I allowed them to get halfway to the door before HK-47 and I burst out of our hiding places. Two troopers were down before they'd even drawn their blasters; a third was rapidly discharged by the assassin droid's deadly accuracy. I swiftly killed the interrogator and his assistant, and saw HK-47 board the transport to kill the pilot before he could warn the prison proper. He reappeared a minute later, humming to himself happily.

T-3 plugged himself into the computer again to check if we'd been detected. Not so far, which was good, but wouldn't last long. I estimated we had ten minutes at best before someone was sent to see why the party hadn't left the docking bay. Scratch that; three minutes, maybe – they certainly hadn't been expecting two ships.

Opening the docking bay door, I found I was wrong. Three guards were directly on the other side. Fortunately, they were as surprised to see us as we were them, and that second's hesitation cost them. I took out two while HK-47 hit the third right between the eyes. I signaled the droid, and we swiftly dragged the bodies into the cargo bay, where I quickly frisked them. Nothing really useful except a security card which I suspected wasn't of high clearance. No matter; it would probably get us through most of facility's doors.

With T-3's soft beeps providing directions, we moved as quietly as possible through the maze of hallways. The facility has twenty personnel; we'd killed three. I needed to find the rest, preferably not all together. We found a computer terminal, and T-3 accessed the security cameras. Three were in the barracks, obviously sleeping. Seven were in the dining area, one in the kitchen, two outside the containment area. The commander was probably in his office, which was not likely to have security cameras tied into the more accessible parts of the mainframe. That left four unaccounted for.

Which we found as we rounded the corner. Without pausing to let them register our presence, I flung myself at the nearest guard, neatly decapitating him with one slash of my 'saber. HK-47 took another out, almost as swift, and I plunged my 'saber to the hilt in the next one in line's chest. The fourth managed to get his blaster drawn, but a quick slash removed its usefulness, followed by a backhand that silenced the trooper. T-3 opened the nearest door and we piled the bodies in.

Two more doors down were the barracks; the sleeping occupants never heard us coming. I regretted killing a man in his sleep, but better that than alerting the rest of the station to our presence. Next door was the dining area. To even the odds, I had T-3 open the door and chucked a couple of poison grenades into the crowd. The survivors of that blast were easily killed, including the cook, who was reeling from the inhaled toxin when I burst into the kitchen. I knew the skirmish could attract attention, but if I had counted right, the only ones left were the commander and the guards outside the cells. I wasn't worried.

I strode purposefully toward the commander's office, HK-47 and T-3 in my wake. The man calmly had a blaster pointed at me as the door slid open. I smiled, and launched myself at him. The blaster erupted, but I blocked the blasts faster than he could track them. Between my lightsaber and HK-47's blasters, he was dead in seconds.

I turned to the assassin droid. "HK-47, go to the holding cell area and take care of the guards there. I'll be along shortly. Do not kill the prisoner, understand?"

"Exasperated acknowledgement: of course I understand, Master. Pleased acceptance: I will go kill the meatbags in the cellblock now." The annoying droid sauntered out of the office.

I rifled the room, searching for a passkey to the cell. I finally found it in a hidden drawer in the desk. Triumphant, with passkey in hand, I made my way to the cellblock.

The first thing to hit me was the smell. The hallway and guard common area were pristine, save the two dead guards on the floor. But the odor seeping from the three cells was rank with decay and despair. Waving HK-47 out of the room, I quickly checked the first two cells. Empty. In the third cell, though, I found Revan. I stood still, so utterly overwhelmed that I had found her at last that I couldn't move.

"Annie," I breathed, barely above a whisper.

She was filthy. Her hair was braided down her back as she always had it, but it was dirty and half of it pulled out in matted tangles. Face and hands were reasonably clean, but the fingernails were ragged. Her robes were tattered and stank. The pungent odor of human waste wafted from a bucket in the corner. The cell itself was damp and chill, the stone walls streaked with moisture and dirt and, I suspected, bloodstains. There was a single bunk bolted to the wall, with a soiled mattress and a grungy blanket. Revan was seated on this, deep in meditation. Her hazel brown eyes opened at my voice, and she turned to me.

"Annie?" she asked, puzzled. "Is that my name?"

"Yes," I said gently. "To me. Revan is your name."

"Revan," she said thoughtfully. "I think I like Annie better." She smiled suddenly. "You're speaking now, Dree. That's different. You have a lovely voice. Where's Carth?" She looked around in confusion.

"He's back with his ship, the Eternity," I answered. My guess had been right; she _had_ blocked herself. "He would have come, but I wouldn't let him. And you asked him not to."

"But he was here a minute ago," Annie said, clearly distressed. "He left when you talked to me. You shouldn't have done that."

"Annie," I said, carefully coming toward her. "It's Dree. We have to go now." I reached out to touch her, and she flinched.

"No," she said. "If they know you talk to me, they'll take you away. Go away now."

"They won't hurt you again," I promised. "They're dead. I'm real, Annie. See?" I touched her gently on the cheek.

She pulled away, refusing to look at me, shaking her head violently. "No. You need to stop talking to me. They'll know; they'll hurt me again. You made Carth go away."

"Annie –" I started, but she shrieked, bolted off the bed, and flung herself under it, slithering under and rolling into a ball. She clapped her hands over her ears and screamed.

"NOOOO!" her voice was panicked. "STOP TALKING! GO AWAY!"

"I'm sorry, Annie," I said grimly. I pulled out a hypo, and plunged it into her thigh. She went limp, but I knew that wouldn't last long. I hoped they had better drugs in their infirmary. Then I had a better idea.

Calling to the droid, I ordered HK-47 to carry Annie, and found our way back to the transport ship that had lead us here, T-3 trailing after us. Ignoring the bodies, I made my way on board and located the infirmary. Swiftly locating some first-rate drugs that would keep even a Jedi of Annie's talent under for a good day, I administered them to the unconscious woman. Then I set about getting her clean.

Dismissing the droids, I carefully cut away the torn and filthy robes, disposing of them in the incinerator. When she was free of clothing, I took stock of the damage. Nothing too bad; malnourishment, certainly, a few scars, but nothing debilitating. Her hair was awful; full of lice, but that could be remedied easily. I sighed in relief. Finding a clean blanket, I tucked it around her, then went to work on the hair. I gently freed it from its long braid and found a comb. Two hours of careful work removed all snarls and a good deal of the grime. A quick treatment found in the equipment cupboard took care of the lice. Satisfied I'd done as much damage control here as I could, I engaged the anti-grav units on the gurney. Towing it behind me, I sought a 'fresher.

I could have danced when I found it; there was a real tub as well as a shower. Filling it with the hottest water I could stand, I quickly stripped down to my underwear and lifted Annie into the tub with me. She was like a wax doll; all boneless limbs and slack muscle. The water quickly turned gray, then nearly black as I washed her hair. Grimacing in distaste and pulling Annie onto the floor, I drained it, scoured the sides free of grime, and started again. Three tubfuls later, the last cooler than I liked, she was clean. I made sure she was dry and located a robe hanging behind the door. It wrapped around her almost twice, but covered her well enough. I threw my own robes in the laundry recycle, along with my now filthy underthings, and took a swift nearly cold shower myself. When I emerged, my hair smoothed back in a bun at the nape of my neck as usual, my clothes were clean. I dressed, and called for the droids.

I ordered HK-47 to take Annie to the Ebon Hawk, put her in my cabin, and told T-3 to guard her there, in case she woke up.

"Monitor her life signs, T-3. If she starts to wake up before I'm back, give her another hypo of this." I handed over the drugs. I didn't expect her to, but better safe than sorry.

"HK-47, return to me once you've left Annie with T-3."

"Resigned statement: I hear and obey, Master," it said sardonically.

While the droids were off on their errand, I started to drag the bodies into the transport. HK-47 helped me when he returned, and soon all twenty six dead Sith were loaded helter-skelter on board. I set the computer to take off automatically, and hurried off the ship.

"We have three hours to clean this place up," I said to the red-eyed droid as I sealed the hatch behind me. I motioned it to follow me, and headed to the Ebon Hawk.

I told the droids what I wanted. T-3 was the most valuable on this task; he was going to utterly erase our presence here, wiping our images from the security cameras. HK-47, grumbling the entire way, had the job of cleaning up everything, leaving it exactly as we found it. When someone realized no reports were coming out of this place, I wanted what had happened to be as much of a mystery as possible. Meanwhile, I restrained Annie, just in case, and helped with the cleanup.

We finished with time to spare. Getting back to our ship, I checked on Annie. She was still deeply asleep. Satisfied, I went to the cockpit, and got us the hell out of there. I waited for the transport to take off, and let it fly for a while, following. When it was a sufficient distance from the moon, I blew it out of the sky.

I knew of a port a day's travel from the prison that I could dock at with no questions asked and no records taken. I asked T-3 to take control of the Ebon Hawk, with orders to wake me if there was trouble. Then I went to my cabin.

Annie was still asleep, of course. I removed the restraints, and she rolled onto her side, sighing deeply. Her hands grabbed a pillow and she curled her arms around it, scrunching the mass into a puffy ball. With a deep sound of contentment, she buried her face in the softness, leaving only enough room to breathe. My heart contracted painfully; how many times had I seen her do that when we were roommates at the Academy?

"Don't worry, Annie," I said softly to my sleeping friend. "I'll help you find yourself again."

I changed into a sleep shirt, and with the tenderness of a mother with her newborn child, I slipped into the bunk with Annie, to guard her from the monsters in the dark.

We stayed at the nameless port a week. I left ship only long enough to acquire sufficient supplies to sustain us for the journey back to the Outer Rim. I hated to drug Annie again, but I couldn't leave her conscious with only the droids to help her. The rest of the time not spent eating or sleeping, I attempted to break through the wall Annie had erected around her identity. For the first four days, I spoke to her endlessly, talking about things we'd done together, people we knew. I even talked about Malak, hoping to provoke a response. It did, violently.

That name propelled her again under the bed, screaming.

"You can't let him out!" she shrieked. "He's behind the door, he can't come out! Don't let him get out," she subsided into heartbroken sobs and I crawled under the bed to coax her out.

"I'm sorry, Annie," I said soothingly. "He won't come out, I promise. It's okay, sweetie. Come on out."

Eventually, I got her out from under the bed, and she retreated to on top of it, lapsing into her meditation again. Even joining her didn't help; I couldn't touch her mind without her shutting down even more.

On the fifth day, I found her calmly sitting in the common area, eating breakfast. I was encouraged by that; she must have made it herself. I went into the galley and stifled a laugh. Every pot and pan in the place had been used, and the counters were littered with empty food packs and spilled protein powder. She had always been a rather good cook, but messy. I was pleased that there was enough left over for me, and helped myself.

The rest of the day was a frustrating mix of disjointed conversation and failed attempts to reach her. I was running out of ideas on how to get through.

Some time near midnight, she looked at me full on. "You won't stop talking," she said petulantly. "Carth won't come back. You need to shut UP!" that last was almost a roar.

I nodded, and eventually she went to sleep. Taking that cue, I didn't speak to her for the next two days, and that seemed to make her happy for a while. Then the rages started.

"You made him go!" She bellowed at me. "He won't ever come back now!" she was flinging anything she could get her hands on at me, and I was fully occupied ducking. Somehow, I managed to get close enough with the hypo, and she subsided, whimpering.

I sat watching her sleep for a long time. I wanted to get her back to Carth, but I had wished she would be whole in body and mind when I did so. I went over everything she had said and did since her rescue, tumbling it in my mind. I was a healer, and usually can help even the most ill with my talent. I wasn't one to brag, but was honest enough to admit that the only person I had met that surpassed my skill was Jennet. But this was beyond my experience, or, I suspected, hers. Trying to reach Annie mentally would only push her to slip into a comatose state. What else could there be?

As I collated all the data I had, something clicked. Annie was adamant about Carth 'leaving' when I had 'started to speak to her'. One of the first things she had said to me was 'you're speaking now, Dree. That's different." Followed shortly by "Where's Carth? He left when you started talking to me."

I had it now. The key to unlocking Annie's mental prison was _both_ Carth and me. She had kept us somehow out of that cell in her mind, expecting our presence to trigger her memories. It was simple, and brilliantly logical. We were the two people she cared about the most. If we both were there, she was no longer in danger, and she could safely remember anything she'd been keeping from the enemy.

_But…I thought_, confused. _That doesn't scan._ _She could only assume that if she _knew_ Carth and I knew each other. And we'd never met until I came back. She couldn't possibly know I had. Unless…_

I stood utterly still, struck by a sudden thought. She couldn't have known I would meet Carth and understand his importance _unless she had sent me to him in the first place._

Something broke free in my memory, and the last of the puzzle fell into place. Kriea hadn't taken me back to known space; _Revan_ had _sent_ me back. She had left Carth to fight the Sith, and to find _me._ I staggered as the memories hit me like a swoop bike slamming into a bulkhead. Annie finding me on some nameless planet, fighting a one-woman guerilla war against the Sith. How happy I'd been to see her, but suspicious she was still a Sith Lord. I had kept my ears open to rumor and knew the terror that had swept through the Unknown Regions had been under the leadership of Darth Revan. Then rumor had it she was dead, with Malak taking over. Things had been quieter in the last year, but the Sith was still active. I had resisted her overtures at first, but she had convinced me of her redemption, and that I needed to go back with the information both she and I had gathered, to give it to Carth. She had given me the Ebon Hawk, and ordered me to the Outer Rim.

I had hit trouble with Sith scouts as soon as I hit known space, and the Harbringer, fortunately nearby, had bailed me out, taking the Ebon Hawk on board for repairs. There was where I met Kriea, who warned me of an HK-50 unit that was seeking bounties and posing as a protocol droid. She claimed it would recognize me andKriea as Jedi. Fool that I was, I offered the old woman escape, but Darth Sion's ship had intercepted the Harbringer before takeoff. Heeding Kriea's warning of the Harbringer's doom, I took on as many as I could convince to flee. While escaping, the Ebon Hawk had taken massive damage, leaving only T-3 in any shape to limp us to Peragus, the nearest safe port. And once there, she poisoned all the survivors; trusting my Jedi training to save me.

It had suited Kriea's purpose to allow me to think _she_ was behind my returning to Republic space, and while I was unconscious, she had altered my memories to support this. She also must have implanted the suggestion that it was the Jedi Council that had stripped me of my Force connection; I certainly had known before that I had done it to myself. I could only really guess the whole truth, having been out a good deal of the time, but the pieces fit. I was so glad for a moment to have my memories completely intact that it even overshadowed the wonderful knowledge that Annie hadn't abandoned me. Then that hit too, and I could have danced with the pure joy of it.

_Right, _I thought happily. _Carth, I'm bringing Annie home._

It took us the better part of five days to get to the Outer Rim. Annie spent most of the time either destroying the galley in the process of cooking much better meals than I can make, meditating, scolding me for either talking to her, or _not_ talking to her, and showering. She seemed to think this was all a dream, and as such, could do as she pleased. I let her, as long as she wasn't doing anything that was a danger to herself or any on board.

Once in Republic space, I sent a comm to Carth on the private channel he'd given me months ago. I waited patiently by the computer and at last a signal buzzed. I punched the receiving button and Carth's face came onto the screen. His eyes widened when he registered who was contacting him.

"Master Ladria," he said, smiling. "It's good to see you. We've been worried."

"It's just Ladria, Admiral," I admonished him. "Good to see you too. Sorry for the worry."

"I'll call you Ladria if you call me Carth," he answered with a smile. "And don't worry about it. Any news?"

"Yes," I said, unable to keep myself from smiling. "I found her."

Carth just looked at me, his face going utterly blank. If I'd been intrusive and tuned in, I would have bet that I'd felt the mixture of elation, worry, fear, and utter joy that flooded him at that moment. As it was, I simply waited for him to speak.

"Where is she now?" he asked after a moment, his face still, as if smiling might break some cosmic spell and make my words untrue.

"I have her here, on the Ebon Hawk," I said calmly. "But Carth…she's not…herself." I said gently. "I'm hoping to change that."

"What do you mean?" he asked sharply.

"I mean that she's cut herself off from her identity," I answered as carefully as I could. "She's been a prisoner of the Sith for a year, and buried herself inside her own mind to keep them from discovering…whatever she knows," I said a little lamely. Then I straightened my shoulders, looked at him full on. "I don't know what intelligence she's gathered since we saw her last, but it was probably important, at least at the time. To keep that from falling into the enemy's hands, she completely buried not only it, but _herself_ from interrogation. I believe she was successful; I found no record that she had told them anything at all."

"Well, that's good then, I suppose," Carth said, just short of harsh. "But what of _her_?"

"We can get her back, Carth," I said gently. "I don't think it's a good idea to talk about this at length here. Can you take us on board?"

"Of course," he said promptly. "I'm transmitting the coordinates now."

"Look," I said softly. "She'll come back to us, I promise. I'll explain everything when I get there."

He looked at me for a long moment, his face still. Finally, he nodded.

"I know that you wouldn't say that if you didn't believe it was true," he said slowly. "All I want is to see her again. Whether or not she knows me is not as important."

"I know how you feel," I said with feeling. "I agree. But we'll get her back, Carth. I swear it."

"I hope so," was all he'd say. "When can I expect you?"

"Six hours," I promised, after checking the data.

"All right. See you then." He paused a moment, then asked quietly, "Do you want me to comm Dxun?"

I looked at him, swallowing. "No. I'll do that. But thanks."

"Anytime." Carth said, and smiled uncertainly.

"It'll be fine, Carth," I said, and we signed off.

I sat back, thinking of Atton for the first time in days. I'd been so occupied trying to reach Annie that I had almost forgotten him. Almost. In truth, he was always in my thoughts, just less at the front at times than others. I really wanted to help Annie before I confronted Atton about my sneaking off in the dead of night. But if I didn't let him know I was back, he'd be that much angrier with me, and I couldn't blame him. Taking a deep breath, I punched in the comm signal for Dxun.

When I got through, I saw the familiar face of Kelborn.

"Master Ladria," he said respectfully. "The Mandalore and Lady will be happy to hear from you. They told everyone on communications duty to alert them if any word of you came through."

"And I'm looking forward to talking to them as well," I said warmly. It was true, after all. "Who else is still on Dxun?"

"Besides the Mandoa, you mean?" Kelborn looked at me shrewdly. "The first wave of refugees arrived two months ago, and more have arrived almost daily. Of your former companions, " I winced at the choice of words, "Masters Visas, Mira, Bao Dur, Disciple, and Atton remain. As well as Megari and her daughter. If you'll excuse me a moment, I'll alert them of your communication."

I didn't bother to correct him for calling the Jedi Masters; he was showing respect which I appreciated. I sat, holding my breath, until another familiar face filled the screen.

"General," Bao Dur said, a huge smile on his face. "It's so good to see you. Was your mission successful?"

I couldn't help it, I grinned widely, wishing I was there to hug the stuffing out of the big Zabrak. I hadn't realized just how much I missed him and the others until I saw his face.

"Yes," I said, feeling like crying but keeping it firmly in check. "There's some complications, but I'm confident that it will be worked out soon. How is the Mandoa project progressing?"

"Wonderfully well, General," Bao Dur said warmly. "Most of the apartments and workshops are finished, and more than half of the expected Mandalorians have arrived. The house is done, too," he said proudly, and I recalled the wedding gift Canderous had planned for Jennet. "They've been moved in for five months now. The Republic has agreed to sponsor the housing needed for the additional Mandoa that are expected."

"That's wonderful," I said, smiling hugely. "And how are you?"

"Busy," Bao Dur said promptly with a laugh. "But content. I've missed you."

"I've missed you too," I said warmly.

I heard confused voices in the background, and Jennet's face appeared on the screen, Bao Dur being laughingly shoved aside.

"Oh my Gods, it's really you!" she squealed, and kissed the video screen, giving me a blurred close-up of her face in the process. "We're so glad to see you!"

"I'm glad to see you too," I said, laughing. "How's Helen?"

"Growing big," Jennet said ruefully, and stood back to display her seven month pregnancy. "Kicking me to death."

"You're glowing," I said warmly, and she smiled.

Canderous appeared at her side. "Ladria," he said with a smile. "Are you back for good?"

"I think so," I said. "I found her. She's….damaged, but I expect her to be in good health soon," I said evasively.

A sharp look crossed the Mandalore's face. "I take it she can't talk right now?" he asked carefully.

"No," I answered steadily. "But I'm hoping soon. I'm on a course to intercept Carth Onasi's ship now. I wanted you all to know I was okay."

"Understood," he rumbled, and his and Jennet's images were replaced by Mira, Visas, Megari and Disciple's, who all gave me their warm welcome and regards.

I chatted a while with my friends, catching up on news. Helen was due in two months, and Canderous and Jennet were planning to leave a month after that to join Carth in the fight against the Sith. Mira, Disciple, and Visas would depart for Coruscant in a week to meet with what remaining Jedi there were to discuss the rebuilding of the Council. This was the third of a series of talks, with another scheduled in a month.

"I'll be at that one," I promised, "If I can. What conclusions have been made so far?"

"Not many," Visas confessed. "There is an ad hoc Council in effect, headed by Master Stefan, but we're basically in a holding pattern until your return."

"All right," I said evenly. "Then I'll make it a point to be at the next one. I have intelligence that may be helpful; there might be a meeting sooner than that."

"I understand," Visas said serenely. "Let us know if anything changes."

"Will do," I said.

A hush fell among my friends, and suddenly Atton's face filled the screen. I heard a shuffling behind him, and knew when he spoke no one else was in the room.

"Hey," he said finally, after staring at me for at least a minute.

"Hi," I said idiotically. "How are you?"

"Better since I quit hitting my head against that stone wall," Atton said dryly. "You?"

"Better now that I've found Revan," I answered evenly.

"Well, good for you," his voice was bitter. "I'm glad you did."

"Hardly," I said tartly. "But I've missed you."

"I'm sure you have," he shot back, obviously unconvinced.

I sat and looked at him for a while. When I could speak without my voice trembling, I said carefully, "Look, I know you are mad as hell at me, and I don't blame you. I'm heading to Carth's ship now to help An – Revan. I would like to see you."

"I'll see if I can fit that in to my busy schedule," he said sardonically.

"I'll be arriving in six hours," I told him.

"I don't know how long it will take me to get there," Atton said, his face blank. "Assuming I want to come."

"Fair enough," I said evenly. "For what it's worth, I hope I'll see you soon. If you don't make it, I'm not sure how long it will be before I can get to Dxun."

"I'll keep that in mind," he said, and cut off communication.

Well. That could have gone better.

Sighing, I continued my course to intercept the Eternity. Leaving T-3 to monitor the flight, I went to prepare Annie for our arrival.


	4. To Sleep, to Rest

Since her rescue, she had not liked to wear much more than the robe I had taken from the prison. I had altered a few of my own robes and breeches to fit her; she was a good twelve centimeters taller than me, although still shorter than Mira or Visas, who were close to Atton's height. I never lamented my lack of height much, but it had been refreshing to meet Jennet, who was shorter still. I had noticed during my time on Dxun that she had been teased about her tiny stature, while I had not, even though there wasn't more than a few centimeters difference.

It was a struggle to get Annie in proper clothing, and I had given up. After all, it was only me and the droids on board, who would notice or care? But I knew that once she regained her memories, she would loathe knowing Carth's first sight of her was in a borrowed bathrobe, and likely blame me for it. I grinned to myself; Annie hated losing her dignity, even more than I did. She had always envied my ability to keep it around me like a cloak, no matter how filthy or inappropriately dressed I may be. I had once tried to explain to her how to I did it, but truth was I had no idea why I had that sort of effect on people.

Finding her in my cabin, I patted her head and pulled robes and breeches from the closet, along with appropriate underthings. Height difference aside, we were close enough to the same size everywhere else; her captivity had slimmed her down shockingly. Even a week of proper diet hadn't gained her enough back to put her at her ideal weight. I approached her cautiously.

"Annie," I said quietly. "We're going to see Carth soon. Wouldn't you like to be dressed nice when he sees you?"

She looked at me reproachfully. "Liar."

"Annie," I said sternly, "I will never lie to you. Let's get you dressed."

She grandly ignored me, closing her eyes again.

"Come on, Annie," I wheedled. "It's just some cloth. Not so different than what you're already wearing. Carth would like to see you dressed well."

In response, she shifted so she was facing the wall, her back to me.

Sighing in resignation of the probable fight, I tried to slip the bathrobe from her shoulders. Surprisingly, she let me remove it, and even took the underthings from me without comment and put them on. But when I handed her the breeches, she threw them across the room, and refused to touch the robes at all.

A sudden inspiration struck me, and I put the offending clothing away. Rummaging in the back of the closet, I pulled out the dress I had worn during Jennet and Canderous' wedding reception. It would be short on her, but it wasn't Jedi robes. I held it in front of her face and she sighed happily. Snatching the dress from my grasp, she pulled it on over her head and stood to settle the folds around her. The emerald green suited her complexion and made the flecks of green and gold in her hazel eyes stand out. I pulled the gold sandals I had worn with it out, and they fit well enough. Her feet were only a tad longer, but had always been narrow.

"Will you let me braid your hair, Annie?" I asked, and she nodded.

She had worn it loose the last week, brushing and combing it endlessly, obviously pleased to have it lice-free and clean. Unbound, it reached nearly her waist. Braided, it hit well below the middle of her back. I fastened the end and pointed to the mirror on the tiny dressing table. She preened at her reflection, and I left her there to check over the ship.

The flight to the Eternity seemed to take forever. I fidgeted and paced until I could hardly be in the same room with myself. Ruefully, I expected if any of my friends that could see me now would be surprised; I usually didn't overtly express irritation or impatience. It was freeing, somehow, to be able to pace to my heart's content, and fidget all I wanted. Maybe I should try it more often, and not worry about what impression I was making on other people.

At last, T-3 announced the Eternity was in sight, and I took over the cockpit. The huge Republic ship was transmitting docking codes, and I guided the Ebon Hawk to the proper docking bay. I commed Carth; something had struck me in flight.

"I don't think it's a good idea to meet us at the dock, Carth," I said without preamble. "I don't know what her reaction will be when she sees us together. Could you send an escort, and find a room that doesn't have too many breakables in it? You can meet us there when we're settled."

He looked disappointed, then suspicious. "Sure, but what do you mean, when she sees us 'together'?'

"It's a long story, and I don't expect you want to hear it over a comm," I said gently. "Please trust me. Is there quarters available that has a separate bedroom? I'll need to talk to you before Revan sees us, and I don't think leaving her alone with strangers would be a good idea."

"All right," Carth said, resigned. "Give me ten minutes to make arrangements."

I waited again, fidgeting, and finally received the signal that the escort was here. I had already ordered HK-47 to shut down, and planned on taking T-3 with us. To my surprise, Annie followed me with no struggle out of the Ebon Hawk. She balked a little upon seeing strangers, but the Republic uniforms didn't seem to frighten her. I took her arm as we disembarked, and the soldiers saluted. I automatically returned it, and to my surprise and amusement, Annie did too. Somehow, the sight wasn't as funny as it should have been; she did it with infinite dignity. Of course, she had been their supreme General at one point; receiving salutes had been like breathing.

"Request permission to board," I said quietly to the lieutenant.

"Permission granted, Ma'am," he replied, grinning. "Admiral –"I cut him off with a sharp gesture. "The Admiral," he amended, startled, "has directed me to escort you and your companions to your quarters."

"Carry on, then," I said, smiling.

We were lead through the confusing maze of corridors, gathering speculative looks as we did. Annie was looking around, a little frightened, I thought, if the way she was clinging to my arm was any indication. Her eyes were as wide as a child's and she was close to sensory overload. It was with relief that we arrived at our room. I thanked the lieutenant and sergeant, asking them to let their commander know I would be happy to receive him in about a quarter hour.

Annie stood in the middle of the sitting room, wide-eyed and trembling. I made soothing noises and led her to the bedroom, letting her explore before she took refuge on the bed, folding herself into her familiar meditation pose. I promised I'd be in the next room, and left her there. Another five minutes of fidgeting and pacing, T-3's soft beeps in the background, and the door chimed. I liked that; no irritating buzz in the guest quarters. I opened the door.

Carth stood alone, looking anxious. "Where is she?" he asked, peering past my shoulder around the room.

"In the bedroom," I said quietly. "We need to talk first, as I said. And hello to you," I added with a smile.

"I'm sorry," he said, looking at me directly for the first time. "I'm being rude. It's just…"

"I know," I answered. "I was teasing. Bad timing."

He suddenly gave me a hug, almost lifting me off my feet. "Hello. Thank you. You have no idea how glad I am to see you."

"I might," I said, laughing. "Put me down, and come in."

We settled on the arm chairs centered around a low glass-topped table. Carth leaned forward anxiously.

"How is she?" he asked.

"Physically, fine," I answered. "Malnourished, but that will be remedied in time. A week of good food has helped. Mentally…well, I told you what she did."

"Yeah, and I'm not sure what to make of that. I've heard of self-inflicted amnesia, but never encountered it before. And most don't regain all their memories, if any at all," he said worriedly.

"She will," I said firmly. "I spent the last week trying to unlock her mental prison, and come to the conclusion that she left herself the trigger to regain her memories. Us."

"What do you mean?"

"When I found her, she looked at me and said, 'Dree, you're talking now. That's different.' and shortly after asked where you were, insisting you 'left' when I started speaking. I think she held on to our images, knowing when the real us confronted her together, she would be safe to remember whatever it is she learned." I explained.

"That's…amazing," Carth said, rather skeptically. "Are you sure she's not just insane?"

"Pretty sure," I said firmly.

"Well, let's do it then," he started to stand, and I shot out a hand to restrain him.

"Carth…I don't know how she'll react. You need to prepare yourself that it could be violent. She must have done this a year ago, or more. The Force only knows how deeply she's buried things by now; forcing the issue is bound to be tricky. And I think you need to know my story as well before we go in there." I cautioned.

He sat, looking impatient. "All right. Tell me."

"While trying to figure out how to reach Annie," I started, but Carth cut me off.

"Annie?" he asked, puzzled.

"That's always been my nickname for her," I explained. "She called me Dree. I told her when I found her that her name was Revan, but I'd already called her Annie by reflex. She informed me she liked Annie better, and hasn't answered to Revan since."

"Annie and Dree," Carth mused. "First I've heard of it."

"They're our private names," I said gently. "We've always been close."

Carth nodded. "I understand. She was always Cryssana to me, or Ana, until I got my head around Revan. Sorry to interrupt."

"No problem. Anyway, I recovered the last of my memory loss with I finally realized it was the _both_ of us that would likely make her remember. She couldn't have known I would meet you, or understand your importance, unless she herself sent me to find you," he gave me a startled look, and I explained what I had remembered.

"She must have been captured by Bastila not long after I left," I concluded. "And I can only assume she had set up some sort of trigger for the memory block in advance, against the possibility of capture, trusting I would find my way to you. She had told me to give her another six months, and if she didn't return, gave me several sets of coordinates to begin searching for her. I did, of course, meet you, but by then Kriea had altered my memory, so I had no recollection of Annie finding me, or her orders."

"And by then, you were deep in a mission, being manipulated by that old hag," Carth said grimly. "That took you how long?"

"About eight months," I replied. "And I spent another two after, on Dxun. So I'm almost a year overdue finding her. She couldn't have anticipated me regaining my connection with the Force, but I _do_ know her very well; she would have left me clues somehow to help me track her down, if she could. And she would expect you to be with me, because of the Force blindness; I'd need help, and you would insist on going after her. She _must_ have known about Bastila when she sent me, and guarded against it. I don't know why she didn't warn me."

"Are you sure she didn't?" Carth asked, eyebrow raised.

"Positive," I said firmly. "I can't think of…" my voice trailed off.

"What?"

"She didn't tell me because she knew I wouldn't leave if I thought she was in danger," I said slowly. "Force-blind, she thought I would be killed trying to protect her. So she sent me to you, figuring you'd protect me from Bastila. I never read what was in the datapad she gave to me, promising not to until I put it in your hand. Along with whatever intelligence she'd gathered, I'll bet she warned us about Bastila's betrayal. Kriea must have found the datapad, read it, then disposed of it; too much was in there that would tip me off to her interference with my memory."

"That's a big supposition, but it fits," Carth said, nodding. "It also means anything Revan knew is probably useless now."

"I can't think of any other logical conclusion," I agreed. "And I do know Annie. It would be like her to take the risk herself, rather than subject one of the people she loves most to it. Especially as I was Force blind at the time."

"Sounds like someone else I know," he said quietly, with a pointed glance.

I smiled. "Yes," I said, with an equally pointed stare.

Unexpectedly, he laughed. "Well, there's a reason she loves us," he said. "We can hardly blame her for her own protectiveness, knowing we'd do the same thing."

"Watch me," I said dryly.

"Yeah, that's what she'd say too," Carth shrugged. "Or me, come to that. So what do we do now?"

"We go in there, and see what happens," I said simply, hoping my anxiety didn't show.

"Let's do this, then," Carth said, and we went to the bedroom door.

I punched the door mechanism, and we stepped inside. Annie was still meditating, eyes closed. I heard Carth take a sudden breath, then let it out slowly. I glanced his way, but his eyes were all for the woman on the bed.

"Annie," I called. "I brought Carth back."

I thought I saw her stiffen for a second, and then she opened her eyes. She stared at the two of us, no expression on her face at all.

"Revan," Carth said quietly. "I've missed you."

She didn't move, just sat and stared, blank faced.

We approached slowly, and cautiously, Carth reached out and touched her cheek. "Hey, Beautiful," he said softly, and I wished that I didn't have to be here. He deserved to see her again in privacy.

But I set my resolve, and spoke. "Annie, honey, Carth's here. Didn't I promise he'd come back?" I touched her arm, and Carth had moved his hand to the opposite arm.

The reaction was explosive. She literally launched herself straight up, leaped over our heads, and slithered under the bed, screaming; a wordless shriek of pain.

We both dived after her, trying to see if there was a physical reason for it, but no, whatever hurt was purely mental. As one, the both of us spoke calmly, trying to coax her out, and suddenly the screaming stopped. She had fainted.

It was a long day. Carth managed to haul her out from under the bed, and we tucked her in it after removing her shoes. After an hour had passed with no change, I waited with Annie while he went into the other room to order medical supplies to be brought to the guest quarters; we didn't want to move her to the infirmary. The doctor who came with the equipment checked her over and assured us that while she was comatose, there was no physical damage to her brain, and should wake up.

"How long?" Carth asked tersely.

"When she's ready to," the doctor shrugged. I'd briefed him on the situation. "From what Master Ladria has said, she's a strong-minded woman; she'll be okay, I think. Call me if anything changes, and just keep her comfortable. I've left some sedatives, just in case."

Carth thanked the doctor, and we resumed our waiting. We didn't talk much, but he did say Atton had commed him, confirming his arrival sometime tomorrow. I was both pleased and apprehensive about that. I didn't really want to fight two emotional fronts at once, and if there was no change in Annie by the time Atton arrived, I might be too needed here to deal with him. On the other hand, I wanted to see him so much I ached.

"Annie," I said with a scowl to the comatose woman, "You always had a lousy sense of timing."

Carth looked at me, clearly wanting to scold me for insensitivity. I couldn't blame him, I was a little amazed at myself. But he laughed instead, albeit ruefully.

"Yeah, she does," he agreed.


	5. Perchance to Dream

_It was a nightmare; that was all. She'd had worse ones, she could stand this one. All she had to do is wake up. Right? Her soul was screaming; she could hear it, distinctly. Everything she knew was in ashes at her feet. She sneaked a look at Carth and immediately looked away; his face was set in the blankest expression he owned. Carth's eyes in that brief glance were as dead as any Sith assassin she had ever seen._

_They were in a running firefight, shooting and slicing anything that moved as they rushed toward the relative safety of the Ebon Hawk. The screams of the dead and dying roared around her as they cut down yet another patrol. Finally, she and Carth fled the Leviathan and staggered on to the Ebon Hawk, both in their private hells, stunned by revelation and Bastila's sacrifice. _

_On board, she rose above her shock and barked orders like the leader she was._

"_Get that hatch secured now!" she bellowed. "Everyone, prepare for takeoff. MOVE!"_

_Carth was already at a dead run to the cockpit. "As soon as we're clear, jump to light speed. Head anywhere we can hide and refuel," She shouted after him._

_Mission looked terrified, yelling, "Where's Bastila?"_

"_She's not coming." Her voice was flat._

_She ran to the cannon bay, tossing orders over her shoulder at the top of her lungs. "Everyone hang on to something, this is going to be rough!"_

_The engines were fired up already; Canderous had seen to that. She flung herself into the seat and hadn't even finished strapping in when with a roar and a hell of a bump they took off. Ignoring the turmoil in her head, she concentrated on locating and blowing away any fighter pursuit. This is not the time to lose it, she told herself fiercely._

_The firefight was brief; they hit hyperspace in minutes. Carth reported over the general comm where they were heading: a nice safe anonymous port where they could make repairs and resupply. _

_Immediate safety accomplished, she gathered everyone to the main area and told them exactly what had happened. There was absolute, deadly silence. No one seemed to know what to say. Then, amazingly, Canderous laughed._

"_Well, well, well. I knew there was more to you than met the eye. The great Revan, under my nose this whole time." He snorted. "And not a single jetii knew but Bastila. Well, I for one can think of no finer warrior to serve with. That isn't Mandalorian, of course."_

_This endorsement, far from seeming to comfort their leader, made her blanch, although she still stood firm, back straight, and even nodded at the Mandolorian, accepting his compliment for what it was._

_Carth, however, did not agree. "You think this is FUNNY?" Carth snarled at him. "She was the greatest threat the galaxy has ever known. The ruthlessness, the cruelty, the sheer evil of her…so much death, so many lives destroyed…and I TRUSTED her, I BELIEVED in her! She was everything I fought against, and she's standing on this ship…I lost everything because of her, and so did you, I might add, and you're LAUGHING? You're honored to serve with her? Are you fucking insane?"_

_Canderous's face grew hard. He barked at Carth, "What's changed, exactly, except that we know who she has been? She said herself she had no idea of any of this. I know what I have seen of her now, and she is no longer an instrument of evil. But a warrior…that she is, and I respect it. As for my sanity….if you weren't needed for this mission, I would challenge you for your insolence. As it is, I will overlook it." His tone had grown deadly, but calm. "Are you going to fight what can't be changed? Or are you going to waste our time with your personal issues?"_

"_Personal ISSUES…" Carth started hotly, but Jolee cut him off._

"_Enough." His voice was quiet, but cut through the air like the 'saber he wore at his side. "We accomplish nothing with pointless bickering. The situation is...unfortunate…but it is what it is. We can't help by debating what she was. I suggest we all calm down, and figure out what to do next."_

The memories were flooding back so fast that her body had collapsed into a coma while her mind combated the assault. The woman with no name showed no outward sign of the turmoil within; to her watchful companions, it seemed only she was deeply asleep. Some small awareness of them filtered through the thick fog of the coma, and she reached for it, taking comfort in their presence. But her face never changed.

_Jolee especially helped her get over the first hurdles of acceptance. They would talk while they worked, sometimes about trivial things, sometimes about the mission, and, whenever he could work her around to it, about herself. His caustic humor and earthy wisdom helped her to regain her center. Finally, she asked him outright how he felt about her being Revan. He looked at her with his kind eyes and answered honestly._

"_Little girl, I never met Revan. I've watched you, and you're a fine Jedi, a great leader, a good friend. Your light burns so bright it makes an old sinner like me feel almost ashamed. Almost, mind," he winked at her, and she smiled back. "But I won't lie to you, child. What the council did to you…it troubles me. I have to conclude there always was great good in you, or you wouldn't have had the instincts to become what you are now. Revan, though…we all know the stories, the reports back from the Republic fleet, of what you and Malak did. Something made you turn to the dark side, and until you know for sure why, you'll be in danger, I think."_

"_So do you think that there is this great evil in me, and if I start remembering my life as Revan, I'll be her again?" she asked bitterly. _

_Jolee said gently, "That's not what I meant. Your past is filled with darkness, but your heart is one of the most loving and giving I have ever seen. Trust an old man to know that sometimes you have to walk with the demons to truly live in the Light."_

"_I'm remembering things now, just little flashes. I've been pushing them away; I don't want to remember what I did," Her face was troubled._

"_Now that is a mistake, I think. Let the memories come. If you face them down, you can start integrating the two halves of yourself. If you're having a flash and need help, call for me, I'll hear, and help. Ju'hani will too."_

"_I'll…try. Can I ask a really stupid question?" _

"_Sure, if you don't mind a really sarcastic answer."_

"_Please no," and her face was serious. "I just was thinking…should I go back to the name Revan? Cryssana isn't mine, I didn't choose it, someone on the Council gave it to me. At least Revan was my name once. If that makes sense."_

_Jolee laughed, making her feel a little foolish for bringing it up. But he patted her shoulder, and smiled widely. "You should use what name you need to be called, little girl."_

She felt one of the presences kneel by the bed, touching her face, holding her hand. She didn't move, or speak, or open her eyes; not even her breathing changed. But somewhere, she thought she heard a familiar voice calling her. She wanted to follow it, but the memories overwhelmed her again.

_They were gathered in the common area, chatting after dinner. She had been drawing out each of her friends in turn, asking for stories. She could tell Jolee wasn't fooled; he knew she felt if she kept them talking about themselves, they were less likely to ask _her_ any questions. But she ignored that, and was just laughing her first real laugh in days at a story Canderous was recounting about being dropped, just barely in atmo, on a swoop bike, armed to the teeth, when Carth came in. _

_Her laughter stopped immediately. She looked at him, her eyes unguarded for the moment, and made as if to speak to him. Her face was full of sadness and guilt, pleading for understanding. He looked her in the eye for the first time since their escape and stared a moment._

_Then he turned his back._

_There was a stirring through the rest of the group, like a wind through a grass field. The ripple of disapproval was tangible. She looked as if he had struck her. As he started to walk away, Jolee and Ju'hani felt a sudden wave of Force power roll through the room, and leaped to their feet, on guard. _

_A terrifying transformation was taking place in their leader. She stood up, kicking back her chair with a clatter, and snapped upright, drawing herself to her full height. She was not overly tall to begin with, but before their eyes, she seemed to _grow_. Her eyes, usually a soft hazel, seemed to darken to black, and a strange energy suddenly surrounded her, causing the hair that had escaped her braid to dance in the static. Her skin, already pale, took on a deathly pallor._

"_Do not turn your back on me," she hissed, and gestured at Carth. _

_He immediately froze to the spot, unable to move a muscle. Then, incredibly, he turned slowly, with jerky motions, like a marionette. His face was contorting with his efforts to fight the power controlling him. She strode over to him, stopped close enough for him to feel her breath on his face. Even though she was looking UP, being a good fifteen centimeters shorter, she gave the impression of towering over him._

"_It is not wise to anger me, and my patience with you has grown short. Show me respect, or suffer the consequences." Her eyes were narrowed nearly to slits, her mouth in a grim, angry line. Her skin glowed with an unearthly light, and he could feel the power emanating from her in a dark, deadly current. Slowly, he was forced to his knees, fighting every bit of the way, but helpless to stop her. He looked up, and she smiled, terrible and beautiful and deadly. She saw the fear in his eyes, and suddenly, there was an almost audible snap and the dark goddess was gone. She slumped bonelessly to the deck, her eyes hazel again, wide and frightened._

"_Carth, I…" She seemed to lose her ability to speak. Then she looked around at the stunned faces of her friends, scrambled up, and fled to her cabin._

She wanted to wake; she fought to open her eyes and escape the onslaught. Reaching for the light of the two she felt nearby, she drew on their strength and tried to break free of the tidal wave in her head. For just an instant, she thought she would kick free, but the dark waters dragged her down again.

_She was sitting at the table, toying with her food, with Mission chattering away and every so often reminding her to eat. Jolee and Ju'hani were seated in the extra folding chairs, talking quietly. Carth, who had been avoiding pretty much everyone, suddenly walked in. An unnatural stillness settled over the room, and everyone looked at anything but the two of them. He nodded to the room in general and went into the galley, emerging a minute later with a tray, and turned to head to the cockpit._

"_Carth."_

_She spoke softly, but it cut the air like a 'saber's strike. He stiffened, but didn't turn around._

"_I wish I could say something, anything, that would make a difference. But I can't. I'm sorry."_

_There was an instant of silence. "I don't want to talk about it now." His voice was a harsh rasp._

_She stood up. Her face eerily calm, she picked up her half-drunk mug of ale and threw it across the room. It shattered, and ale sprayed around in a golden mist. Carth turned around, staring at her in complete surprise._

"_Well, I" she said, her voice perfectly reasonable as she picked up her bowl and hurled it too, stew flying everywhere. The pottery made a satisfactory crash. "do."_

"_And I," She grabbed Mission's glass and aimed it at Carth's head, flinging it with deadly accuracy. He hit the deck, dropping his tray, narrowly missing getting his head caved in. _

"_don't" another bowl shattered on the deck, inches from Carth's temple. He rolled by instinct and scrambled to his feet. _

"_fucking care" a glass joined the growing pile of rubble._

"_if it's not" a third bowl splintered a bare inch from his left foot._

"_fucking convenient for you right now!!" Her voice had risen to a bellow. _"_We have a job to do, and I can't do it if you won't talk to me at all! I can't, it's too big, it's too much, and I _can't do this anymore_!" _

_She dropped to her knees, sobbing, her hands over her face. Her rage and misery rolled over the room like a tidal wave. Her voice rose higher, all the agony boiling out of her. _

"_I don't know who I am anymore, or why I do things, or what memories I have are real. I don't know why I like dancing, or why I think Pazzak's boring, or why I can drive a swoop bike, or why I need to look at the stars at night, or why Mission feels like a little sister to me. I can't do it, I can't…I can't stand the thought that I was ever Darth Revan, knowing that I was once so evil, that I killed so many people and enjoyed it…and I know I can't help it, or make it right, or take back a single thing I did to hurt you, or anyone else." Her sobs grew quieter, a hopeless sound. _

_She choked out, "I hate that I was Revan, and I'm scared I'll become her again, I'm so scared that I will, because it's so easy not to care about people. I've known what it is to want nothing but power, and to revel in other people's pain. You don't know what it's like to not have to worry if what you do is right or wrong or what may come of it, as long as it gets you what you want. It's so easy to do that…do you hear me? It's so fucking easy!" She gulped air, and suddenly the rage was back. _

"_I've had thousands of souls terrified of me, serving me, willing to do anything I ask, for fear of what I would do to them if they don't, or because they were as twisted as me, and wanted the power I held. I killed without remorse, without pity, to serve my own needs. And part of me wants that back!" _

_She looked up at him, the power of a true Sith in her eyes, and suddenly Carth couldn't breathe. He clutched at his neck, the Force power remorseless. She was on him in an instant, pinning him to the bulkhead, hand at his throat. She hissed in his face. _

"_This is the power I knew…to be able to choke the life out of someone, just because it pleased me to do so."_

_Jolee and Ju'hani were diving at her to pull her off when she released him. Carth slammed to the deck, gasping. Suddenly, the mad light left her eyes, and she backed away, stumbling over the broken pieces of dishes._

"_I can't stand it, knowing I might be that again, and that everyone I love is afraid I will turn on them. I can't do it…I can't fucking DO it, I can't live with that, and I know you're all just waiting for me to go back._

"_Carth, I hurt you most of all, and I bleed inside to know it. You're so right how you feel, how you've acted. But I'm dying inside, knowing you hate me, no matter how much I know I deserve it. I've betrayed everything you are. When Saul told us who I was, I felt my soul rip to pieces. And then I saw your face, and my heart stopped beating. I try to sleep, and see my face looking back at me in the darkness." _

_She fell to her knees again, curled into a ball and wailed. Mission, frozen at the table from the start of Cryssana's tirade, started to go to her, but Carth got there first._

_He touched her, smoothing stray strands of hair back from her face. He put a hand under her chin and gently forced her to look at him. _

"_I'm sorry," he said simply. His voice was quiet. "I'm sorry I couldn't understand, and that I couldn't help you when you needed it most. I'm sorry I let my own pain get in the way." He reached out, hesitant, afraid she would shy away from his touch. When she didn't flinch, he pulled her to him, cradling her against his chest. "I have trust issues, you know."_

_His feeble joke seemed to calm her, and she even tried to laugh. "Well I can't say I blame you. I'm not sure you should trust me. Hell, I'm not sure _I_ should trust me."_

_Carth whispered, but even Canderous could hear him, the room was so still. Carth didn't care anymore. "The worst hell this week has been having my head tell me I shouldn't, but my heart telling me that I do. Not should, do. I do trust you, and I've been wondering all this time if I'm insane, because I couldn't stop loving you, even knowing who you were."_

_At that, she did cry, but it was a healing sound now, not the hopeless sobs of a minute ago. _

"_I love you too," her voice was as quiet as his. "I can't lose you now, and I can't do this without you."_

"_Sure you could, Beautiful. You're strong…so much stronger than me, and I love that most about you. You could. But you don't have to."_

The woman on the bed stirred slightly, and smiled. Her mind had quieted, and she knew the assimilation of her identity was successful. So many memories had flashed through her mind; she had literally dreamed her entire life in a few hours. A curious sensation, one she didn't wish to repeat again any time soon.

She could feel her friends now clearly, their support and loyalty and love wrapping around her like a soft blanket. She reached for their warmth, and found at last she could open her eyes. Sitting up carefully, she saw them both, Dree and Carth, and knew them for who they were. They were sleeping in armchairs by her bed, exhausted from tending her and the energy she had drawn from them, however freely given. After everything she had done, and put them through, she didn't know how she could deserve their devotion, but was wise enough to be grateful she had it. Let them sleep a little longer. Smiling, she watched the two people she loved most, waiting for them to wake.

She was no longer nameless, and no longer alone.

* * *

Somewhere in the wee hours of the morning, I was dozing in the armchair I'd hauled into the bedroom. I felt a touch on my arm, and jerked awake. Carth was staring at the bed, gripping my arm tightly, and I followed his gaze. Annie was sitting up, watching us, her hazel eyes bright. 

"Would one of you two," she said conversationally, "like to tell me why I'm wearing a _dress_?"

"You wouldn't wear robes," I said, and started to laugh hysterically.

She merely glared at me, and sniffed. I was too far gone in relief and merriment to care. She looked up at Carth, who had stood at the sound of her voice, and looked as if he'd still be frozen to the spot a century from now.

"No hello?" she asked brightly.

"Hello," Carth said automatically, then swept her clean out of the bed, trailing blankets. "I thought I'd lost you," his voice was muffled against her shoulder and wadded linens. "I was afraid you wouldn't come back. What a foolish thing to do, dammit, you could have been lost forever!" He kissed her with every other word, and she was glowing.

"Hey, now," Revan said softly, managing somehow to push him back a little, a remarkable move, considering she was dangling a good fifteen centimeters off the floor. "Hey. It's okay. I was as careful as I could be. I missed you." And with that, she kissed him good and proper.

I didn't want to intrude anymore, and quietly tried to slip out the door. I was exhausted, and Atton was on his way. The couch out in the sitting room looked comfortable enough.

Revan's voice stopped me. "Dree," she called, "Where do you think you're going?"

I turned, and Revan was on her feet again, Carth's arm protectively around her. She smiled up at him briefly, disengaged and came toward me, hands outstretched to take both of mine.

"You found me," she said simply. "I knew you would. Thank you."

"Anytime," I said, and, horrified, I started to cry.

"Hey, now," she said again, gathered me to her, and hugged me hard. "It's okay now, Dree," she murmured in my ear, and I was shocked she was crying too. If I seldom do in front of anyone, _she_ almost never cries, period. She set me back a bit, smiling through her tears, kissed my forehead and gently wiped my eyes. A tissue had appeared in her hand, and I was amazed when I glanced up that Carth was using another, while handing a third to me. Aren't we the happy three? I cleaned up my face, sniffling. Then Revan looked closer at me, and her eyes widened.

"You got it back," she whispered.

I nodded, understanding that it had registered with her that I'd recovered my Force connection. "Yes," I said. "Not long after you sent me to Carth."

"We have a lot to catch up on," Revan said soberly.

"Yeah," Carth agreed. "But can we do it tomorrow? I think Ladria needs to get some sleep."

"Take the bed, Dree," Revan said. "I don't think I could sleep for a while, anyway. But," she scolded, turning to Carth, "you need some, too."

"I'm fine," he protested, his heart so clearly in his eyes I had to look away. "I could stay awake forever."

They left, Carth promising to wake me when Atton arrived.

"Who's Atton?" I heard Revan ask curiously as the door slid shut.

I quickly undressed and slipped into the still warm bed. The pillow smelled like Annie.

_Yes, we have a lot of catching up to do, _I thought as I slid into sleep.


	6. To Know You Again

Author's note: I should probably say that I'm _basing_ this story on the games but not sticking to total cannon, as many have noticed, I'm sure. There are minor pysical changes (for instance, Carth's eyes, according to Wookiepedia, are supposed to be brown; I made them hazel blue, and Canderous is supposed to be grey-eyed, not bright electric blue. So sue me; I like blue eyes. In case you're wondering, and I'm sure you're not, mine are like Revan's: hazel brown. But I digress.) in some of the characters as well. Flashbacks are often during the times of KOTOR I and II, and I've put my own spin on most of it. I hope that I've done an adequate job sticking to charcter personality, however. I love writing Atton in particular, he's such a loveable rogue. If Ladria seems a lot less formal or distant than she had appeared in _A Match for the Mandalore_ or _Serving His General_, all I can say is it's mostly from her point of view, and people tend to be much more casual in their heads than how they present themselves to others. Plus, she's unbent a lot since the end of the mission, I think; not having the fate of the galaxy on your shoulders helps a lot.

Thank you for the comments so far, I love feedback!

Always, LJ

* * *

Carth didn't answer her question immediately both because he was too busy drinking in her presence to really care, and because he wasn't sure of how to answer. He'd never intrude on Ladria's private life, especially on such short acquaintance. But he'd spent almost two weeks on Dxun, and had a gift for observation. It was obvious to him the depth of feeling between Ladria and Atton. He understood Revan's curiosity, but it wasn't his place to enlighten her.

He'd paused just a shade too long, though, and she was now suspicious, and impatient.

"Well? Who's Atton?" she asked, just short of imperious.

She'd only been herself ten minutes and was already demanding answers. Carth couldn't help it, he grinned widely, and she scowled at him.

"What?" She asked, clearly not seeing what was so funny.

"Nothing," he said, still smiling. "It's just…you're so _you_, that's all. I've missed that look on your face."

"What look?" her eyes narrowed, suspecting him of laughing at her.

"The one that says 'tell me, or I'll damn well know the reason why you don't,'" Carth said. "If I needed anything to make me believe you were back, that look does it."

She stared at him thoughtfully. "Am I really such a demanding bitch?"

"Demanding, yeah," he answered honestly. "Bitch…not as often."

"Fair enough," she said after a moment. "We can debate that later. Who is Atton?" she asked again.

"A Jedi, one of Ladria's recruits," he answered honestly enough. "He piloted the Ebon Hawk during their last mission."

"Recruits? What mission?" Revan asked, eyebrows raised in inquiry.

"I promise we'll tell you about it later," Carth said with a smile. "It's a very long story, and I don't know all of it. It would be better to explain everything when Ladria can participate."

"Okay," Revan said, obviously wishing she could ask for clarification, but letting it go for now. "Atton is something special to Dree, though, yes?"

"That," he answered carefully, "is something I'm not qualified to answer. Let it go, Rev. Ask her when she's awake."

"All right," she said, suddenly smiling. "When did you become such a diplomat?"

"When they gave me a flagship and started calling me Admiral," Carth said easily. "You learn, or you retire."

"You were always better at that than me," she said softly, then her face grew troubled. "Maybe that's why I did better as a Sith Lord. Not much by way of diplomatic skills needed."

"Don't ever talk like that," Carth said harshly. "You are the kindest person I know. Darth Revan died years ago."

"No," Revan said seriously. "I mean yes, you're right. I'm not Darth Revan anymore, and I never will be. But the kindest person you've ever met is sleeping on the other side of that door." She waved in the direction of the bedroom.

"She is something," Carth allowed. "I haven't met someone as natural a leader as her with as big a heart, that's true."

"No," Revan said quietly. "There's no one like Dree."

They were silent for a while. They had progressed from standing in front of the bedroom door to sitting on the couch in the sitting room, holding hands and sitting close. Neither of them seemed to know how to move to a more intimate stage; too many years between them, too much had happened. To both of them.

"Admiral?" she asked suddenly. It had hit her what he'd casually mentioned earlier. "When did that happen?"

"I was promoted two years ago," he said with quiet pride.

"Congratulations. I always knew you'd make command level. There's no one I'd trust more with my troops," leaning over, she kissed his cheek. "So…we're almost equal rank now," she observed with a mischievous smile.

"Yeah," he smiled. "Still a couple, well, three, levels to go. On the other hand, you're retired."

"I don't think I'll be drawing any benefits from the Republic," she said dryly.

"Um, well…" Carth looked uncomfortable for just a flash, before his face went smooth and diplomatic again.

"What?" Revan looked at him suspiciously.

"Nothing bad," he said quickly. "It's just…I lobbied for exactly that for you and Ladria, and every other soldier from the Mandalorian and Jedi Civil War. The Star Forge mission proved most that fell and followed Malak…"

"Me, you mean," she interrupted gravely.

"Yeah. You," he said quietly, not trying to look away, knowing she'd see that as an attempt to dismiss what she had been, to deny her whole self. He'd come to terms with that long ago, but expected that with her memory so recently restored, some things would float to the surface again. Not to mention five years' absence. She seemed satisfied with his reaction, and nodded for him to continue. "That mission proved that most that fell were under the influence of something they weren't equipped to fight, let alone resist. Not even you."

"Ladria didn't fall," Revan said quietly.

"No," he agreed. "She'd lost her Force sensitivity by then. But I didn't restrict it to those that fell and came back. I'm looking for some restitution for all the veterans of those wars, so that the ones that have nothing, can't work because of injury, or the ones that escape the Sith and want to redeem themselves, _they_ will have a shot at doing just that. They can get their feet under them, and contribute, feel useful again."

"Didn't the Republic take care of those that were invalidated out?" Revan asked, shocked.

"To some extent, yeah, it did," Carth assured her. Like Revan, he was appalled at the thought of the soldiers he led being left to rot because they can't fight anymore. "But not enough, I think, and they discounted anyone that deserted to the Sith, then came back. I can understand it, sort of; technically it was treason. But I was _there_, and so were the rest of our party; we know what the Star Forge did, and why. Most of those soldiers didn't stand a chance of resisting its influence. The ones that came back, that honestly wanted to redeem themselves, were remarkable, and deserve some recognition and help."

"You're still trying to save the galaxy," Revan said very softly.

"No," Carth shook his head. "Just some soldiers. I leave saving the galaxy to you."

"I haven't been doing too good a job of that lately," she said ruefully. "How about you?"

"Well, the Republic, with its usual bureaucratic incompetence, agreed that the Heroes of the Republic, at least, deserved recompense. They granted basically a military pension to all of us, even Mission, who was a minor at the time, and Canderous, a former enemy. And they're in the process of approving one for everyone involved in this last one, which –" he put up a hand to stop her questions, "I already promised Ladria and I will tell you about when she's awake and has time. They are making some progress on granting better benefits to the rest of the veterans, but not enough in my opinion. So like the government, reward the higher ups first, when it's the common soldier that paid to begin with."

"Did you accept your pension?" Revan asked curiously.

"Yes," he said seriously. "And it goes directly to a fund I set up to help the veterans. Mission did the same thing, excepting enough to get her through school. Canderous actually did take some of his, and used it as far as I know to help in his search for his people. I think he found the irony of it amusing; I can't blame him. Ju'hani and Jolee have been channeling most of theirs into my fund, and Zaalbar accepted a lump sum, to help his people get on their feet. He didn't want any continuous support from the Republic. Bastila didn't accept hers at all."

"Bastila!" Revan exclaimed suddenly, jerking her head up. "There's something I need to warn you…"

"We know," Carth interrupted. "She tried to kill us all. It's a long story, part of the one I promised we'd talk about later. It's what led Ladria in the right direction to find you. And," he said gently, "Bastila's dead."

"I'm sorry to hear that," she answered after a moment. "I might have enjoyed seeing to it myself." There was a glint in her eye, a little of the old Revan.

"I can't say I blame you," Carth said soberly. "I certainly wanted to, when we figured out she'd been lying all along, and was keeping you prisoner somewhere."

"What I want to know," Revan said seriously, "Is why we're sitting here, talking about military pensions, for Force sake."

"Because the only bedroom available in these quarters is currently occupied?" Carth answered, eyes trying to be serious, and failing.

"You have a point," she said thoughtfully. "So my place is out. How about yours?"

"Well," he said seriously, "it's on the other end of the ship. Mind being stared at?"

"I never do," she said airily. "Why are your quarters so far away?"

"That's on purpose; you should remember that. Never have the commander's quarters near the guest rooms; makes him too accessible," he grinned. "You never get anything done if you're right next door to people who will demand your attention."

"True. Well, let's go make a spectacle of ourselves." Revan stood, and Carth noticed she was barefoot.

"My shoes are in there; no way I'm going to wake Dree," she said firmly. "I'm fine."

It was still early in the day, but military ships are notorious for starting the day at the crack of dawn. In space, of course, that was merely an expression. Personnel were scurrying back and forth, performing various duties or on their way to their posts. Most took a second to discretely gawk at their commander escorting a pretty barefoot lady in a fancy green dress through the corridors. Revan held her head up and winked occasionally at the bolder stares. The two of them carefully didn't look at each other, knowing one wrong look and they'd dissolve into helpless laughter.

It took nearly fifteen minutes to reach Carth's quarters; he'd had to fend off many attempts to gain his attention. Ascertaining they were not under attack, the ship was in fine working order, and that none of the crew was AWOL, suffering from a highly contagious disease, or planning mutiny, he convinced most to consult his XO. Once there, he sighed in frustration to find his aide in residence, preparing datapads for his signature. His agenda was carefully placed next to a cup of coffee on the desk, along with what communications had arrived in the last few hours.

Revan, taking this in at a glance, smiled ruefully and disappeared into the bedroom, leaving Carth to handle it. The admiral eyed his aide, a very competent major with a brilliant future and none of the irritating sycophantic tendencies that can drive a commander to drink. Major Cantor was intelligent, efficient, thoughtful, an excellent marksman, and highly trained in hand to hand combat; part of his duties included bodyguard when required. Above all, he was discrete. Carth cleared his throat, and the major smiled.

"Bug out, right Sir?" he asked easily.

"Exactly. Anything need my immediate attention?" Carth nodded to the datapads on the desk.

"Not a thing, Admiral," Major Cantor said, shrugging.

"Good," Carth nodded, "you're dismissed, then, Will. Unless we're under attack, or the Chancellor appears, I'm not to be disturbed for forty-eight hours."

"Make that seventy-two and you've got a deal," Will Cantor had heard the stories about his commander, and wondered if the lovely woman that had slipped into the bedroom was Revan, or if, finally, Carth was letting himself have a life. Either way, Will approved. He'd been with the Admiral four months now, and was planning on asking for an extension when his assignment was up.

Carth was quick to seize up potential and had gone through more aides than two or three officers of equal rank put together. If you were good, it lead to quick promotion and an assignment where the admiral felt you would best suit. If you were not, it usually meant being constantly sent out on useless detail for six months until he could arrange paperwork for retirement, or being reassigned somewhere you could finish your career inflicting as little damage as possible. Make it or break it Onasi was his unacknowledged nickname, but he wasn't unkind; he simply had no patience for useless officers, and was generous with the talented ones.

Major Cantor agreed with this philosophy wholeheartedly but wanted to be different than the others. His goal was to shadow the admiral for at least three years, an unheard of feat for an Onasi aide. He knew it meant he wouldn't be promoted as fast as some, but that mattered less to him than being good at his job. Admiral Onasi was an outstanding leader and Will was smart enough to want to learn as much as possible from the best.

The major scooped up a datapad, swiftly calling up something on the screen. He handed it to Carth with a grin.

"What's this?" the admiral asked with a puzzled frown.

"Leave paperwork, Sir," Major Cantor said, eyes twinkling. "Guarantees you won't be needed for two weeks. I know you have at least ninety days on backlog. I've dated this to start in three days."

"Hell of an idea," Carth said thoughtfully. "Take time off yourself, Will. I'll sign both now."

"I can easily handle extending this if you ask, Sir," Will said as Carth punched in the codes for his electronic signature. "Just comm me from wherever you are."

"I might do that, Major," Carth said with a smile. "One last favor before you head out on leave. Go to the quartermaster and request some clothes to fit a woman about so tall, smallish. Boots, too, size 38. Standard issue is fine. Leave them on the table inside the door and make yourself scarce."

"Aye, Sir," Will saluted, and Carth returned it casually.

He snagged the coffee off the desk and gulped it down, wishing for more. He was tired; he hadn't slept since Ladria had commed him yesterday, and had only caught about four hours the day before that. He couldn't remember the last time he'd managed a full night's sleep; probably when he'd visited Dxun. The short doze before Revan had awakened hadn't made much of a dent.

He wanted Revan with every cell of his body. Standing alone in the public area of his private quarters, though, he was suddenly scared to death. Scared that after five years, they might find there was nothing left. Scared that with no sleep and the stress of her sudden reappearance, he'd disappoint her.

Taking a deep breath, he set down the mug, and went into the bedroom.

He almost laughed at the sight that greeted him. She had protested that she wasn't tired, but in the ten minutes he'd spent talking to his aide, she had tossed the green dress carelessly onto a chair, slipped into bed, and fallen asleep. She was on her side, facing him, her face peaceful and beautiful. One bare shoulder was visible, the sweet curve making him swallow hard, wanting to touch her badly.

He quickly undressed himself, debated about underwear, and decided to keep it on. Moving with care, he slid into the bed behind her, kissing her shoulder. She moved closer with a sighing sound, and he gathered her in, all that bare flesh making him wish he wasn't a gentleman. With equal parts disappointment and relief, he fell asleep himself, holding her close.

Revan smiled to herself. She hadn't really been asleep, but knew he was too tired to have picked up on her mild deception. They had plenty of time, and she didn't want him to come to her with the fear he'd inadvertently transmitted between them. Let him sleep for a while, and get used to her presence. She could wait. Snuggling against him, happier than she'd been in, well, ever, she closed her eyes and breathed in his scent, reveling in his warmth and nearness. The coma had healed her mind, but it left her weaker than she'd like to admit. Rest wouldn't be a bad idea. With this thought, she dropped off herself, setting a mental wakeup call in her head.

He woke to the sensation of being attacked by a bundle of feathers. Groggily, he opened his eyes and glanced automatically at the clock. Five hours had gone by since he'd crawled into bed…then the feathers shifted, and he remembered. He looked around, and realized the sensation that had woken him was Revan's hair trailing over his chest…and lower. She'd unbound her braid, and the silken strands were floating everywhere, covering most of his chest. She was nibbling on his belly button and he groaned, automatically grabbing her head. His hands were full of her hair, and he unclenched his fists, letting the locks flow through his fingers. She looked up, smiling, her hazel brown eyes glowing mischievously.

"Good morning," she said, and crawled back up his body.

The feel of her flesh against him made him crazy, and she saw it in his eyes. They were hazel too, but blue, not brown like hers. The flecks of green and gold and grey were a beautiful mix; she always loved looking at them. When he was aroused, they always went darker, almost entirely gray, while the gold stood out like the reflection of a candle's flame. They were very dark now.

"Good morning," he answered hoarsely. He cleared his throat and she smiled wickedly.

Her kiss was sweet and tasted of mint; she must have gotten up long enough to brush her teeth. It made him aware of the fact his mouth felt thick and gluey and that cup of coffee had caught up with him. Then he didn't care as her tongue darted into his mouth and he groaned, pulling her closer. His hands cradled her face and his mouth softened. They broke apart reluctantly, breathing heavily.

"I've missed you too," Revan said, recovering first. He hadn't said it; he didn't need to.

He shifted uncomfortably; her weight was reminding him he needed to hit the 'fresher. He looked mildly embarrassed, and she grinned.

"Go on," she shooed him out of the bed. "We have time."

"Sorry," he tossed over his shoulder, and disappeared through the door.

When he came back, she smelled toothpaste and soap and a hint of the scent he wore sometimes, the one that made her mouth water. It was musky and faintly bittersweet, like coffee with sugar and cream. Just a whiff made her skin tingle and she kissed him again when he sat on the edge of the bed.

"You're so beautiful," he breathed when she pulled away to look at him.

He reached out and traced the line of her cheek with one finger, trailing it down her throat, across her shoulder, down her arm. She shivered.

"I'm too skinny," she said frankly, but her voice was husky.

"You could use a few kilos," he agreed, smiling. "But I love your skin; it almost glows. I'd forgotten how pale it is, like pearls."

"Thank you," she said seriously.

She was unable to help touching him, and her hand lingered on his thigh. He was deeply aware of this and she couldn't help but notice. She kept her head down, her hair covering her face, to hide the smile. The last thing she wanted was him to think she was laughing at him. Far from it; she was reveling in his presence and her power over him. And his, over her.

"Rev," he said quietly, "I'm scared out of my mind. Five years is a long time."

The confession cost him, and she knew it. She looked up, the smile gone. His eyes were still dark gray, and hers were almost green, the brown overshadowed by uncertainty and desire, not a comforting mix, but a powerful one.

"I am too," she whispered, and he knew it was even harder for her to admit. He pulled her into his lap, and let her hide for a moment. She wound her arms around his waist and he was glad now that he hadn't stripped entirely. They needed some time and it would make things awkward if they both were naked.

"Has it been that long?" she asked quietly, not jealously, simply a question.

He considered lying, but knew she'd hate that worse than honesty. "No," he admitted, refusing to look away.

"I see," she said quietly. "You took me at my word, then. How long?"

"Two years," he managed not to say it through his teeth.

He hated that she had been right, that he hadn't been able to hold out and wait for her. She'd made him promise to treat their separation as a real one, that she wanted him to take comfort and maybe even find love. Not so much to give up on her, but realize that she might not come back. She didn't want him wasting his life. The first year, he'd thrown himself into his work, more or less expecting her to return any day. Temptation wasn't even a blip on the nav chart. The second, he simply missed her, and prayed she was okay, but gradually began to realize that she wasn't coming back any time soon.

At the end of the third year, depressed and miserable, he'd met a woman who had lost her husband the year before. They'd had drinks, talked a lot, became friends and eventually comforted each other. He had been fond of Hava, and sorry he couldn't give her all of himself. He still thought of her with gratitude; she had given him some heart back. But all it had really done in the end was make him miss Revan more.

It had lasted three months, and they parted friends. She had even been grateful to him for helping her live again, which made him feel even more guilty. After that, he quit trying to pretend that any other woman would measure up. Revan had asked him not to wait forever; he knew then that it was a promise he couldn't keep.

He looked at her, trying to gauge her reaction. She didn't pull away from his arms; that was a good sign. She looked at him seriously, and her eyes hadn't changed.

"I'm glad," she said unexpectedly, and he knew she meant it.

"I'm not," he said honestly. "It wasn't fair to you or…" he stopped, unwilling to share the name with Revan. He was, after all, a gentleman.

She shrugged, but didn't move away. Instead, she snuggled closer. "It doesn't make a difference to me. I can't blame you for doing what I asked, for trying to live."

He said nothing, wanting desperately to ask if it had been the same for her. It didn't matter. He clamped his teeth down on the question, and waited for it to pass.

"About the same," she answered his thoughts, and he wasn't sure he was happy or not to know. Before he could decide, she continued. "Only once did I …look for comfort because I wanted to," she said very softly. "That was about two years ago for me, too. But Carth, I…"

"Rev, it doesn't matter," he said quickly.

"It does," she said fiercely. "I need you to know. Not to punish you, or myself. But because there's always been truth between us, once I knew who I was. I can't start over if we're both wondering."

"All right," he said heavily.

He knew she was right. He looked, and her eyes were more brown now, but the heat was still there. She still wanted him, and he felt the same. He wondered if he ought to let her move away until they'd had this out. Having the same thought, she gently moved off his lap, wrapping the sheet around her more securely. Leaning against the headboard, she looked at him soberly, as if choosing her words.

"Tell me about her," she asked carefully. "I don't need to know her name."

He took a deep breath, and told her about meeting Hava, although he withheld the name. They had both been lonely, and he had come to be afraid that Revan was gone forever. How they had spent those months trying to make a life together, without the ones they really wanted to share it with, and the slow realization that they were fooling themselves. Her husband was dead, but she was ready to live again, and find love. His love for Revan wasn't dead, and he wasn't ready to let it go.

"We're still friends," he finished. "She's married now, partly because of me. I introduced her to her husband. They have a baby girl, and she's happy. She still worries about me, though, and I'm afraid she doesn't have a high opinion of you. Not for your past, what she knows of it, but for leaving me. I never could explain it to her satisfaction, especially since most of it was classified."

"Classified," she said dryly. "What an appalling term."

"You are who you are," Carth said, shrugging. "Nothing about you is simple."

"I suppose not," she said thoughtfully. "Or you, I think. You're the only one I know that can have a bad affair and she not only doesn't hate you for it, she even thanks you."

"It wasn't bad," he said seriously. "It just wasn't you."

She smiled sadly. "You're so idealistic. Please don't change."

"Haven't so far," he said gruffly. "Now tell me what you need to."

She stilled so completely that he started to worry. He already knew he really didn't want to hear it; if it was this hard to say, he knew it must have been almost devastating to her. He braced himself, and she spoke.

"I made my way to the Unknown Regions," she said as matter-of-fact as possible, "where I managed to infiltrate a major Sith outpost. Not many are alive that know Darth Revan on sight; I wore a mask most of the time then anyway. I had studied some techniques I'd found in the Jedi archives about bringing forth your own darkness to mask your true aura."

Carth interrupted. "Yeah, I've heard of that."

"You have?" she asked, surprised.

"Long story," he shrugged. "I'll tell you later. Doesn't surprise me you found it and learned how to use it, though."

"Well…I learned a lot, and as you know part of my goal in leaving was to find Dree. I don't know how much she's told you, but during the Jedi Civil War, she was brilliant in guerilla tactics against us, Force dead or no. I was so far gone then that I wanted to find her, and kill her. She spent ten years campaigning against the Sith, five of it after I was captured by the Jedi, and redeemed."

Carth nodded, having heard some of this from Ladria herself, and intelligence gathered over the years.

"I set out to find her, but she was like smoke; whenever I got a whiff, she already had dissipated into the atmosphere. And I had to be careful to look in such a way that when I found her, it didn't get us both killed; I was, after all, under cover as a Sith Lord." She said this perfectly calmly, and Carth looked up at that, eyebrows raised.

"I was never in danger of falling again," she said quietly. "I had control over the technique I'd learned, and believe me, the memories I carried kept me safe; I never want to go down that path again. But when you're under cover, sometimes you have to do things you wouldn't otherwise."

"I understand," Carth said, equally quiet. "And you don't have to explain yourself."

"Yes I do," Revan said sharply. "You need to know. I used whatever I could to make rank and get into a position that I could find out anything that would help the Republic. Sex was part of that. So was lying, and sometimes killing. I had no problem killing Sith. I managed to keep from killing innocents; I thank the Force every day for sparing me that. But I did rise to the rank of Sith Lord, eventually. It took two years. I had allies outside the Sith that I trusted, and were poised to storm the base and rescue me if I was discovered. It was just before I accepted the mantle of Lord that I…" she swallowed, but looked at him steadily. "I slept with my second in command. I was scared, and lonely, and I didn't know if I would live through it. He was a good friend, and helped me hang on. He died getting me the information that led me to Dree."

"Oh my Gods," Carth breathed.

He'd felt guilty before, now he felt downright small. All he'd had to cope with was a demanding job and aching loneliness, with the occasional battle thrown in. Revan had been on the front lines of a war they hadn't even begun to get a handle on, long before they truly recognized it _was_ a war. Sure, she'd done things she wasn't proud of, but she'd succeeded in finding out more about the Sith in four years than the Republic had in fifteen, he was willing to bet. And she'd found her best friend, without getting killed. Plus, she must have been evading Bastila too.

"I'm sorry about your friend," Carth said, and held out his arms. She all but flew to him, clinging and, he thought, possibly crying. "And I'm glad he helped you."

"Thank you," she sniffed. He grabbed a tissue, and she wiped her face.

"Revan, whatever you had to do, I understand. I do. It doesn't make a difference to how I feel about you. You were brave, and ruthless, and got the job done. I only wish I could have been there with you." Carth let his admiration and sorrow for her show, and she melted in his arms.

"You wouldn't have lasted a week," she said, her voice muffled against his shoulder. "You're too noble; they would have killed you out of hand. Not that you can't fight, but I have training and experience you don't. You couldn't have infiltrated the Sith."

"Probably not," he agreed. "I just hate that you had to."

"Not that I did?" she asked, her voice quiet.

"No," he said firmly. "You did what you had to, that's all. How can I hate you for being what you are?"

"And what is that?" she asked in a small voice.

"The bravest, strongest woman I know," he said, leaning back and looking her in the eye. "And the woman I love more than life."

"I love you too."

He kissed her then, and the world went away. She leaned into him, and his mouth went from gentle to demanding so suddenly it made them both breathless. Desire held back for so long roared to the surface and they both threw themselves into the flames. His hands roamed over her back, grabbed the edge of the sheet still wound around her, and yanked it roughly away. He felt hers groping for his shorts and cried aloud when her hand gripped him gently, finding him so ready he ached. It took very little time to get rid of the barrier; she reached for him eagerly as he returned to her side. They fell back, and before he knew it he was between her thighs, poised and ready to slide home.

This was wrong, he had wanted to go slow, make it last and bring her as much pleasure as possible. But she didn't want gentle, or slow, she wanted him _now_ and he could never resist her. Their joining was like a bolt of lightning crashing into them, and he heard her cry of pure ecstasy. Her nails dragged down his back and he moaned from the pleasure and pain. Her legs wrapped around his waist and he was lost in the slick warmth of her. They moved as one, bringing each other to a wild peak much sooner than he would have liked, and collapsed, panting.

They clung together for several long moments, until he became aware he was half smothering her. With a muttered apology, he rolled onto his back, feeling a little lost outside her, but she followed, snuggling close. He kissed the top of her head and caught his breath.

"That was…not what I had intended," he said ruefully.

"It was exactly what I needed," Revan answered, smiling. "And you too, I think."

"Maybe," he said, grinning back. "We'll do better next time." He smoothed the hair off her forehead and kissed her again, because she was here, and he could.

"I don't know about you," she laughed, "But I think we did fine this time. I'm a bit out of practice; I might be wrong."

"No," he chuckled back, "you're exactly right. I love you, Beautiful."

"I love you too, handsomest admiral in the galaxy," she teased.

"That's a mouthful," he groaned, remembering the first time they'd flirted, when he'd said he was shooting for her to call him the handsomest pilot in the galaxy.

She hadn't for a while, making him wonder if he'd pushed things too far. But when she had, it was in the middle of a fight, just to be as difficult about things as possible. He hadn't been sure she'd actually said it, and hadn't kissed him until well after she'd discovered her past as Darth Revan. They had made love for the first time after the Star Forge mission was over, but before they had reached Coruscant, where they were honored as Heroes of the Republic. He never forgot that night, and had kept it safe in his heart during the lonely years of separation.

"_What are you thinking?" Carth asked her._

_They were three days from Coruscant, among the convoy leading away from the Star Forge. They had been offered docking space on a Republic warship, but by her crew's request, Revan had refused. Everyone was a bit shell-shocked from the experience, and some, Canderous in particular, didn't want to deal with rubbing elbows with Republic soldiers. Mission was terrified they'd send her to some orphanage; she was, after all, only fourteen, although she had mentioned she'd be fifteen in a few weeks. Zaalbar, of course, would not leave Mission or Revan, and Jolee and Ju'hani were content to stay with their shipmates. Bastila had made her reports, but was in no hurry to rejoin the Order. _

_Everyone had either gone to bed or was, in Bastila's case, piloting the ship, giving Carth a break. Revan was sitting in the common room, drinking ale, lost in thought. She looked up at the sound of his voice and smiled._

"_I'm thinking that our lives aren't going to be our own for a long time once we get to Coruscant," she said quietly. "And I'm wondering what the Order is going to do with me, once we're there."_

_He'd wondered that himself, and didn't bother to hide it. He loved her, and she him, but beyond a need to be near each other and gradually increasing physical contact, they hadn't done anything about it. It was both a frustration and a relief. He wanted her, badly, and she did him. But she was Jedi, and neither of them forgot it. He sat now, and after a moment, she moved so she was in his lap, curled against his chest. They didn't speak for a time, just gradually relaxed until they breathed with the same rhythm._

"_I could leave," she said, looking up at his face. "The Order, I mean. They might have saved me, but I'm not sure I owe them a thing."_

"_No, you couldn't," he said. _

_He would love to encourage her to do just that, but he was, above all, an honest and fair man. She was the best of what Jedi are about, and she belonged in the Order. He wouldn't sabotage her life to keep her, no more than she would his. The difference was, his career was just that, a career, a job, something he'd retire from eventually; now or twenty years from now made little difference in the big picture. Hers was a lifestyle, period. You didn't exactly stop being Jedi just because you left the Order. You just stopped following their rules. And the Order didn't like rogues; they tended to make your life very uncomfortable…unless you disappear. Carth wanted to marry her, but knew that she wouldn't agree without either the Order's approval, or breaking ties. So he said nothing. It had to be her choice._

"_Jolee and Ju'hani don't have a problem with us," she said, and he nodded. It was nothing they hadn't talked about before. "Jolee got along all right without the Council or the Order."_

"_Yes," Carth said neutrally._

"_What do you want?" she asked, frowning slightly at his lack of contribution._

"_I want you to be happy, that's all," he answered honestly._

"_I am, with you," she said softly. "But it's not just about us, is it?"_

"_No," he admitted. "It's not. I'm a captain in the Republic fleet; you're a Jedi, whether you like it or not. You chose it; I was there. Again. And you're a good one."_

"_Again," she said, nodding sadly. "It's what I was meant to be."_

"_Yes," Carth agreed._

"_But," she looked at him full on, and he met her gaze calmly. "What to _you_ want? Not Captain Onasi, not Jedi supporter, not the Republic, or the Order. Not what you want for me. You. Carth. What do _you_ want?"_

"_Everything I want is right here," he said, and kissed her. It was brief, but thorough, and she melted against him._

"_I need you," she breathed. "I want you so much it hurts. And right this minute, I don't care what the Council will think about that. We have three days until we have to face them. Can't we just make our own corner of the universe here, and worry about this when the time comes?"_

"_I'm all for it," he said seriously. "I'm just afraid that it will hurt you later."_

"_Why don't you let me worry about that," Revan said softly. "Stop being noble for once, and let yourself just have what you want."_

_She slipped off his lap, took his hand, and led him to her cabin. He was afraid of hurting her, at first, or at the very least not pleasing her. It had been a while. He'd had a few lovers over the years, but had been very careful not to get involved on an emotional level; after Morgana he had no interest in a permanent relationship with anyone. But once he was there, hands full of her hair, her scent all around him, nothing mattered but the two of them. They found their corner of the universe, and nothing else could get in._


	7. Catching up

He thought about that night, and the three days before the madness of celebration began. They spent it mostly in her cabin, and the rest of their friends didn't intrude. They knew soon enough Carth and Revan would have to deal with the outside world, and were kind enough to allow them time.

What had followed, after the flurry of ceremonies and diplomatic dinners had abated, had startled even him. She had told the Council that she was Carth's lover, and would not stop, and hopefully would be lucky enough some day to be his wife. To say they hadn't liked it was a severe understatement.

"_Master Vrook is a complete prude," Revan had raged after she had returned from a Council meeting, called to discuss penalty for her relationship with Carth. "He wouldn't know love if it rose up and bit him on the ass."_

"_What did they say?" Carth asked quietly, letting her vent and pace._

"_They told me that to be Jedi I had to 'devote myself to my duties' and 'not clutter my life with close relations' and cease distracting myself with 'an unsuitable love affair'," she spat._

"_And what did you say?" he asked dryly._

"_I told them that if by Jedi philosophy, love was wrong, I didn't want to be Jedi," she said grimly. "Master Vrook didn't like that much. I think Master Kavar was more sympathetic, though," she added thoughtfully. Her face turned sober. "They're afraid, you know."_

"_Of what?" he asked, but had a good idea what she meant._

"_Of me. They're afraid if they let me leave the Order, they won't have any control over me at all. And they wouldn't. But more than that, they're afraid I'll turn again," she said quietly. "What they don't realize is they don't have control over me, regardless." Her face grew bitter. "They Exiled Ladria, you know. She had the guts to come back and face them all, and they cast her out."_

_She had told him about her friend, and he sympathized with Revan over her distress over Ladria's fate. Although, come to that, as Darth Revan she had made a concerted effort to kill her former roommate. He wondered how it would pan out if the two women ever met each other again._

"_I don't care what they think," Revan said, coming over to him and wrapping her arms around his waist. "My place is here. They'll come around."_

"_I hope so," Carth said, kissing her. But he had his doubts._

_A few months later, she came home from yet another council, or as she put it, bickering session._

"_They've agreed," she said simply, and his heart leaped._

"_To letting us marry?" he asked carefully, not daring to believe it._

"_Yes," she said, and launched herself into his arms._

_He picked her up and whirled her around, laughing and kissing her all over her face. Her robes swung around them, and were shortly in a pile in the living room, with a trail of discarded clothing leading to their bedroom. Their lovemaking was slow and sweeter for the victory. Later, curled in his arms, she looked at him soberly._

"_There's a condition," she said quietly._

_Carth went very still. He'd dealt with Jedi off and on in his career and basically agreed with their usefulness and wisdom. But no one can make an innocent deal cut two ways like the Council. The Exchange and Hutts were rank amateurs by comparison. He braced himself._

"_What's that?" he asked quietly._

"_I have to do one more mission for them."_

"_When?"_

"_Four months," she said. "I don't know how long it will take. I've agreed, but partly because I want to find Ladria while I'm gathering intelligence for the council. And Carth…I have to be honest. I would have done this even if it wasn't part of the deal. I've been thinking of it for some time. No one else knows how the Sith infrastructure works as well as I do. No one else could infiltrate their ranks as easily as me. And no one else knows Ladria better. I have to go."_

"_I know," he said very softly. "I've been waiting for you to tell me for weeks."_

"_Why didn't you say anything?" she asked sharply._

"_Head in the sand syndrome; I hoped you wouldn't go," he said honestly. "But mostly because I knew you'd tell me in time. I know you, Rev. You've mentioned several times that the Sith threat is only beginning, really. We captured you, the most immediate threat, and then destroyed the Star Forge, which with Malak controlling it, would have devastated the Republic. But there's still Sith out there, you know it and I know it. Someone has to go and find out what they're up to. You're the best choice. I'm not a fool."_

"_I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I want to stay with you, I really do. But I can't stand back and let someone else go who won't be able to do what I can. I can make a difference; I can redeem myself for good and all."_

"_You've already done that," Carth said sharply. "That's not why you need to go; don't fool yourself. You need to because it's who you are. And that's who I love; I don't want to change you. Don't apologize for it, least of all to me."_

"_We have four months before I go," she said. He knew that she agreed with him, and didn't try to make her acknowledge it. "I want to spend it without interference. I told the Council that I would meet with them the day before I head out, but until then, leave us alone."_

"_We'll make it count," he promised._

They had, Carth recalled. He took a leave of absence from the service, and they spent their time wisely. Mission was living with them, and eager to go to a real school. They delayed her enrollment so that the Twi'lik girl could spend as much time with Revan as possible before her departure. Curiously, Mission was the least upset about Revan leaving; she was serenely certain her hero would return, and she'd have the happy family again she craved.

Dustil spent a good deal of time with them too, and when Revan finally left, the three of them drew together, became a closer family; partly, Carth believed, because they wanted her to have something good to come home to. Strangely, it was only Carth that had started to believe she wouldn't come back at all; Dustil and Mission had steadfastly refused to consider she was gone for good. Mission hardly spoke to him when he'd been seeing Hava. Fortunately, she was away at university at that time, but he hadn't hid it from her.

As if plucking the thought from his mind, Revan asked quietly, "How are Mission and Dustil?"

"Good," he smiled. He understood why she hadn't asked sooner; they'd hardly had time. And she knew if there was anything serious to report, he'd have said so right away. "Mission has proved to be a mathematical genius, and graduated from university a few months ago. She's working as a freelance systems analyst, mostly with the military. Dustil just entered the service as an ensign. Finished top of his class at the Academy. They're getting married in about six months."

"That's wonderful!" she exclaimed, her face alight. "I knew that was going to happen."

"Nice of you to share," Carth said dryly. "Took me a bit by surprise when Mission wouldn't let me adopt her because she announced she couldn't marry her legal brother."

"Well, you're a man, and already thought of Mission as your daughter," Revan shrugged. "Would you have believed me if I'd mentioned my suspicions?"

"Probably not," he agreed.

"Will they be happy to see me?" Revan asked, looking uncertain and anxious for the first time.

"Are you kidding?" Carth laughed. "You're lucky they're not here now, breaking the door down."

"Why aren't they?...Oh, never mind," she answered her own question. "You didn't want to comm until you knew if I was all right."

"Exactly. But I'd better comm them soon, or I'm dead."

"I can't wait to see them," Revan said happily. "But Carth…I need to debrief what I've learned, soon. I expect a lot of it is useless by now; apparently you knew about Bastila, and that was one of the more explosive bits of intelligence I'd gathered. But I can still give a lot of information that I've gleaned. If you know about Bastila, then you already know about the plot to assassinate Jedi." Her face grew grave.

"I'm afraid we do, yes," Carth said quietly. "Rev…this is part of that mission I told you about, the one Ladria led. The Jedi are all but extinct now; there's only a handful left, including the five Ladria recruited during her mission. Jolee and Ju'hani survived, and Master Stefan Tai'rhi. There's a few more, plus Ladria's Padawan. And Jennet, although she still hasn't really declared herself Jedi."

She stared at him in shock. "The Jedi Order is gone?" She'd felt the disturbance in the Force, but had hardly had time to analyze it.

"The Order, no. Ladria saw to it that the remaining Jedi would rebuild before she left to find you. But the Council is still in a temporary stage, headed by Master Stefan. They've been waiting for Ladria to return, hopefully with you, before setting up anything more permanent," he said gently. "I'm sorry."

"It's just hard to take in," she said, a deeply troubled look on her face. "How many are left?"

"Including you and Ladria, maybe twenty," Carth answered soberly. "We're not sure if there's more in hiding still."

She swore under her breath. "So the five years I've been away…it's nearly useless. I didn't save anyone."

"You don't know that yet," Carth pointed out firmly. "Until we've had time to go over the data, we won't know what you have, really. You know that; the intelligence game is never predictable. One tiny, seemingly insignificant fact is noticed; it leads to a huge exploitation in the enemy's defenses. Or what seems like a footnote in the agent's report turns out to be the most important information of all. You probably carry information that leads to beating back the Sith for good."

"Not defeating them?" Revan looked at him, eyebrow raised.

"I don't think that's possible," Carth said carefully. "I think the best we can really do is beat them to a draw. And keep doing it. This war won't be over. Ever."

"Maybe a few millennia from now," Revan agreed. "But yeah, I agree."

They were quiet for a few minutes. Revan was assimilating what Carth had told her, Carth was just holding her, so very happy she was here, even though they were in the middle of a war that would never end. Finally, Revan spoke again, snagging one of the minor points Carth had mentioned. "Who is Jennet?"

Carth smiled; this was something he had been waiting to share. "Her parents were both Jedi who left the order and married. When she showed signs in infanthood of being extremely Force sensitive, they taught her to hide her abilities, so she wouldn't be taken by the Order for training. She's an incredible woman, and a gifted healer, as well as being so Force strong it's almost scary. Her parents, and Master Stefan, who is her honorary uncle, did a hell of a job training her. And she's Canderous Ordo's wife, and Mate." He added, looking sideways to see her reaction.

"A Mandalorian Jedi?" she asked, clearly puzzled.

"No," Carth said with relish. "Her father was from Telos, her mother, Onderon. Draguel Jax and Miranne Organa. Jennet is a lovely woman, shorter than Ladria, and reminds me a bit of you. Same tendency to speak her mind, and an incredible fighter; I doubt even you could best her one on one. And she's a natural leader, too. She's Canderous' second in command when they join the Republic to fight the Sith in a few of months."

"I've heard of her parents," Revan said slowly. "But let me get this straight. Canderous Ordo, one of the least charming people I've met, married a non-Mandalorian who is his Mate? You mean true Mate, yes?"

"Yes," Carth said, chuckling at her confusion.

"And she's nice? And Jedi?" Revan was deeply suspicious, and let it show.

"Exactly. Ask Ladria, if you don't believe me."

"And the Mandalorians are joining the Republic," she noted, her tone disbelieving.

"As allies, yes," Carth confirmed. "I negotiated the treaty myself. I was even in the wedding. Canderous is Mandalore now."

"Oh, I knew that," she said airily, glad to have one up on him. "I gave him the Helm."

"You did?" Carth asked incredulously. "Where did you get it?"

"I found it the day after Malachor V," she said, shrugging. "It was in an escape pod, crashed on the surface. I didn't know what it was at first, but kept it. And when I did figure out its significance, I hid it. I don't know why, really. But after the Star Forge mission, I knew it belonged to Canderous, and gave it to him."

"Well, it's a lot more than an old battered symbol," Carth said, smiling. "During the wedding ceremony, it glowed, and apparently connected Canderous and Jennet to every surviving Mandalorian in the galaxy. They're united now, under one clan, Clan Ordo. Canderous offered a deal to the Republic, two thousand warriors at our disposal, with himself and Jennet leading personally, in exchange for help developing Dxun and providing transport for the refugees. He voluntarily offered more warriors when it became apparent there's more than double the original estimated Mandoa left."

Revan stared at him, taking in all this. "You're fond of Canderous," she said finally. "You never liked him much before."

"You did," Carth pointed out.

"True," she said, smiling. "His surliness and lack of manners never bothered me."

"You were one of the few on our mission he genuinely liked," Carth said quietly. "Although he had a bit of a soft spot for Mission, I think. I've gotten to know him much better, and he's changed amazingly since he's met Jennet. He's a good friend, and he'll be very pleased you're back. Jennet's been dying to meet you too."

"What of the others?" Revan asked, idly tracing a finger over his chest.

"Jolee and Ju'hani are naturally enough working to rebuild the Council, along with Master Stefan. They're both saddened and genuinely angered that the Jedi ranks have been so decimated, but they're eager to establish a less restricted Order, one that allows more flexibility of its members."

"Well," she said thoughtfully, "at the very least, we won't be opposed by the Council. Ladria's going to have her hands full rebuilding, though."

"Aren't you going to be a part of that?" Carth asked in surprise.

"I intend to, yes," Revan said seriously. "But it's Dree that has most of the talent for organization and uniting people for a common cause."

"Might I remind you that _she_ followed _you_ during the Mandalorian war?" Carth pointed out. "The Council is waiting for your leadership."

"No," Revan said, shaking her head. "I'm happy to be a part of it, but as you've said, most of who are left are already following Dree. A quarter of them were recruited by her, apparently. Too many leaders is trouble, trust me."

"Often, yes," Carth acknowledged. "But in this case, I think you're wrong. Ladria may be keeping them together, but she's doing it for you. I think the two of you need to unite, and talk about who is left and their roles in the Order. As well as recruitment. There's a meeting in a week, and another scheduled a month after that. You need to be at those, I think."

"I just got back; can't I have a little time with you before I have to go be Jedi?" she groused, but without heat; she knew he was right.

"I'm on leave for two weeks, and can extend that up to three months," Carth said with an understanding smile. "I can go anywhere you have to."

"How did you manage that?" she asked curiously.

"Perks of command," he shrugged. "I don't often get much opportunity to use my leave, but when I demand it, they listen. Plus, I have an outstanding aide; it was his idea, actually. This would be sort of a working holiday anyway; no one's going to balk at me taking time off. And my XO is first rate."

"Who are the new recruits of Dree's?" Revan asked suddenly. She meant to ask earlier, but there was just so much to catch up on.

"You know of Atton Rand, which reminds me, he should be here pretty soon. Then there's Mira Starr, a former bounty hunter, Disciple, a soldier who worked for the Jedi in archives, Visas Mar, a Miraluka woman, sole survivor of her race, I believe. Long story there; we'll catch you up on that later. And Bao Dur, an Iridonian engineering genius. Nice fellow, makes me feel short, though." Carth said with a grin.

"Bao Dur?" Revan looked at him in astonishment. "_The_ Bao Dur, who invented the shadow generator? Dree's commander of the engineers?"

"That's the one, yeah. He still calls her General. They're very close," Carth added.

"How close?" Revan asked, one eyebrow raised.

"I don't think that close," Carth laughed. "I did wonder from time to time, though. And I've said too much; it's not my place to speculate about Ladria's private life."

"Next to you, she's the closest person in the galaxy to me, so I make it my business," Revan declared. "I got a flash off her that Atton is…important to her. Bao Dur didn't come through at all."

"Bao Dur adores her, that much is obvious," Carth said carefully. "But I think his interest lies elsewhere."

"And hers?" Revan asked pointedly.

"You'll have to ask her." Carth said firmly.

"I will," she said, smiling. "Later. I have other ideas how to spend my time right now."

"And what would that be?" he asked, rolling on to his side to face her.

"Breakfast, for one, I'm starving. Then I have other appetites that need feeding." She smiled slowly, tracing a finger down his cheek.

He kissed her palm, and she shivered. Throwing the covers off both of them, he grabbed a robe and headed out the door. "I'll cook; I don't want to spend the next six hours cleaning up the kitchen," he tossed over his shoulder.

"I'm better about it than I used to be," Revan protested, finding a shirt in Carth's closet and throwing it on. She padded out to the kitchen, barefoot.

"Not according to Ladria," Carth retorted.

"Hey, I was crazy at the time; I'm better now."

"You can do toast," he said generously.

"Gee, thanks."

They ate, catching up on more of the last five years and laughing at some of the stories they swapped. He could tell she was eager to see her friends again, especially Mission and Dustil, but was reluctant to leave their little cocoon for now. He understood; he wanted her to himself for a while, and for once felt not one bit guilty for being selfish. No one that mattered will blame them in the slightest. He did suggest she take time to make her report tomorrow and transmit it to the higher ups and Chancellor before they decide where to go next, and she agreed.

Mission and Dustil needed to be contacted; they could easily meet Carth and Revan on the Eternity. Then, likely, they would go to Coruscant for the Council meeting, and get things more settled. Fortunately, Coruscant was only a few hours travel from their current location. On the other hand, remaining on board the Eternity made Carth entirely too accessible for real privacy; he would like to get off ship.

"Telos, maybe?" Revan suggested. "The station is small, but decent entertainment. Not that I want to do much more than hole up in the bedroom," she said with a wink.

"Manaan isn't a bad choice," Carth said. "It's beautiful, and the hotel is excellent."

"The Sith are gone, yes?" Revan asked sharply.

"Yeah, they haven't returned since we got them kicked off planet."

"Then that might be an option."

"Let's not worry about it now," Carth said, and pulled her into his arms.

He kissed her slowly, and she leaned into him, making little incoherent noises of pleasure. Gripping her waist, he lifted her up to set her on the table they'd been sitting at. The kiss grew more involved, and he unbuttoned the shirt she was wearing, deliberately teasing open one at a time until it hung from her shoulders, exposing her to his gaze. There was nothing under it but Revan, and he bent to nuzzle her breasts. His tongue and teeth were driving her insane, and she impatiently tugged on the sash of his robe. He kept his hands at her waist, firmly holding her down on the table and she squirmed, trying to get closer. He held her off easily and continued his erotic assault on her breasts.

"Please," she gasped. "Carth, please."

"Please what?" he lifted his head a fraction to look at her, and his eyes were very gray, the gold sparking like points of fire.

"I want you," she said, voice deliberately husky.

"You can have me," he grinned, bending again. "When I'm ready."

He continued to suckle her until she was moaning and half crazy, digging her fingers into his scalp. When he judged her insane enough, he scooped her off the table and carried her back to the bedroom. There, he made exquisitely slow love to her, taking all the time in the world, bringing her to such heights of pleasure she was reduced to incoherent mumblings of love and desire. Making Revan speechless was an art, and he was a master.

Afterwards, they lay sated and drowsy, simply holding each other. At least, he was drowsy; she seemed energized somehow. It had often been like this, but it wasn't uncomfortable for either of them. The five hours earlier had helped, but Carth had spent the last week on very little rest, while Revan had, of course, been out of her mind, but at least getting enough real sleep; Ladria had seen to it. They were simply breathing, not talking, content to be together with no demands.

The intercom buzzed, jerking Carth out of the light doze he'd slipped into. Automatically sitting up and punching the button, he said in his Admiral's voice, "Onasi here."

"I know you ordered not to be disturbed, Sir," came Will Cantor's voice apologetically, "But you did say you wanted to be notified when Jedi Atton Rand was close."

"That's okay, Will," Carth said, the smile in his voice evident. "I did, yes. When is he expected?"

"About ninety minutes, Sir. Docking bay nine."

"Thanks. I thought I'd sent you on leave," the admiral voice was back.

"You did, Sir. It starts when yours does; two days. I'm on hand if you need me until then."

"Thanks, Major," Carth said. "Onasi out." He looked at Revan, who had sat up when the comm buzzed. He ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his eyes. "I'd better inform Ladria that Atton's almost here."

"Let me do that," Revan said quietly. "I haven't had any time to talk to her, and you need sleep."

It was a mark of just how tired he really was that he agreed readily. "There's some clothes for you out in the sitting area," he said, failing to hide a yawn. "Help yourself to toiletries and such. I'm sorry I don't have anything for you but standard issue; most of your clothes are back on Telos in storage."

"I'll manage," Revan said, with a laugh. "I'm just glad they're clean. And didn't you say something about a pension? The Republic owes me a new wardrobe, at the very least, don't you think?"

"At least," he agreed, but was dropping off to sleep as they talked.

"Sleep well, Handsome," Revan whispered, kissing his cheek and slipping out of bed.

It didn't take her long to shower and braid her hair, find the clothes that Carth had mentioned, and dress. She reached out her senses, and felt Dree starting stir; not waking yet, but she would be in about twenty minutes, Revan estimated. She left the admiral's quarters and unerringly made her way to Ladria's room, easily managing to unlock the door despite not having the security clearance to do so. Some skills just never leave one, she thought, and smiled as she went into the room.


	8. To Err is Human

_The Mandalorian camp was celebrating the return of their Mandalore, accompanied by his yet unproven Mate. Jennet was a welcome breath of air to our little crew, and I was happy for Canderous that he had found her. I was also astonished at the change in him since meeting the quasi Jedi. Happiness suited him._

_Atton and I had been sitting at the bonfire together, talking about everything and nothing, just content to be together. I rose to seek a 'fresher, Mandalorian ale being what it was, and Atton gallantly offered to escort me. We wandered through the dark, not speaking, but he reached for my hand, and I let him take it._

"_Funny how things work out, isn't it?" he asked casually._

"_What do you mean?" I countered, although I had an idea._

"_Canderous," – we were all calling him that now, even though I had been the only one aboard the Ebon Hawk that had known who he was from the start – " the most surly, least charming of us, finds his true Mate, a woman I would have jumped at the chance to get to know better. How is that fair, I ask you?"_

"_Jealous?" I teased, but my heart contracted a little. Jennet was so bright and alive, inclined to speak her mind, and possessed a sharp sense of humor and whimsy, much like Atton's. It was only natural he'd be fascinated with her._

"_No," he said. "And yes. I envy what they have, I guess."_

_We'd arrived at our destination, and separated for a few minutes. When I came out of the bathhouse, he was leaning against the side of the building, gazing up at the stars. I followed his gaze, and picked out the bright light of Onderon among the constellations. I pointed it out, and he captured my hand, not looking at the stars, but at me._

"_I have all the light I need, right here," he said, and kissed me._

I woke from this pleasant memory to Revan perched on the foot of the bed, cross-legged and watching me. She'd unearthed clothes from somewhere and was clad in a simple tunic, breeches and boots; military issue, no doubt. I sat up, fuzzy and wanting coffee. Revan nodded to the nightstand, where a steaming cup waited, along with a pot containing more.

I wasn't at all bemused; we'd always been able to sense when the other was about to wake, and often did small favors like this when we had roomed together at the academy. Even when I'd made Master and was allotted a private room, she'd often steal in just before I woke with coffee and gossip. I'd always been an early riser, and she was a night owl; more often than not she'd be heading to bed when I was waking up. I smiled my thanks and took a sip, feeling almost decadent having coffee in bed.

"So," Revan said, satisfied I was in a suitable state of mind, "who is Atton?"

"Where's Carth?" I asked.

"I sent him to bed," she answered impatiently. "He was dead tired. Who's Atton?"

"Are we rooming, or will you be moving to the Admiral's quarters?" I asked pleasantly.

"Do you think he'd let me be anywhere else?" Revan said with a suggestive wink. "We had a very satisfactory reunion, before you get too nosy, thank you very much."

"Glad to hear it," I said, eyes twinkling. "No wonder he's tired."

"You're evading the question," Revan said sharply.

"Of course I am," I agreed. I'd missed this. I'd had this sense of female friendship with Mira, Visas, Megari and Jennet, but I was their leader, and it put a small distance between us. I was honest enough to know that I had put it there myself, being wary of feeling that close to anyone again. But Annie and I had always been equals, never mind the fact I was a Master while she had remained a Padawan. Later, that 'mere' Padawan had been supreme General of the Republic Fleet, and I had been simply one of her generals. But we'd always been friends, and sisters, first.

Her eyes narrowed, and it was such an Annie look I laughed.

"You know, you are the only one who ever got away with that," she said, scowling.

"What?" I asked innocently, and her scowl deepened.

"You know perfectly well what I mean," she said crisply. "Not telling me what I want to know."

"I always do in the end," I pointed out.

"Not always," she said, suddenly sober. "You always could keep a secret, even better than me."

"I suppose so," I said doubtfully.

"So," she said brightly, "Who _is_ Atton?"

"My…." I stopped, unsure how to class him.

"Lover?" Revan asked helpfully. "Friend? Husband? Padawan? Servant?"

"Friend, certainly," I answered carefully. "Lover, not recently," I looked at her pointedly, and she had the grace to look abashed. "Servant, never. Padawan, technically. Husband…" I let the word trail off, and poured myself another cup of coffee.

"You hope, someday?" Revan asked wisely.

"I don't know," I said quietly. "A lot depends on if he forgives me running off to find you. Without him."

"He will," Revan said confidently. "If he loves you. Carth forgave me."

"You sure about that?" I asked dryly.

"Yes," she said, but her eyes were not as sure as her tone.

"Did you sneak off in the dead of night, having drugged him and leaving him in a barracks bed with only a holo to say goodbye?" I asked soberly.

She looked at me, mouth open. "You did that?"

"Afraid so," I said ruefully. "It was the only way I could keep him from following."

"Damn, Dree, at least I said goodbye," she scolded.

"Yeah, well, Carth's more reasonable than Atton," I said, trying for a light tone and failing miserably.

"He's due in about an hour," Revan informed me. "Carth wanted me to tell you."

"I think I'm going to go be sick now," I said, and ran to the fresher.

Revan was waiting when I emerged, showered and teeth brushed vigorously. Silently, she handed me my clothes, and even brushed my hair, fixing it in its usual roll at the nape of my neck.

"Sweetie, he better be worth it," she said quietly. "Or I'll break his kneecaps. Then I'll heal him, and do it again."

"He is," I answered with a smile at the threat.

"This isn't like you," she said fiercely. "I've never known you to throw up from nerves. Ever. You faced down the entire Mandalorian fleet without messing your hair up. I was amazed when the rest of our fleet got there that you were holding on, and how little damage had been done. And you throw up over a _man_?"

"Wouldn't you, if you'd hurt Carth that much?" I asked quietly.

"I did hurt him that much," she said, equally quiet. "But then, we had time to prepare, and I did say goodbye personally. And our reunion wasn't exactly normal. But I do see your point. And if you hadn't been worried sick over me, you might have had a little time to pull yourself together before you have to face him. I'm sorry for that."

"I'm not," I said fiercely. "I did what I had to, and so did you. I'm just sorry Atton had to pay for it."

"And Carth," Revan added.

"Yes."

"I'm going to make myself scarce," she said with a sideways look at me. "I'll be in the Admiral's quarters if you need me. Are you going to meet him at the docking bay?"

"And give him a chance to blow me into space?" I joked feebly.

"He won't," Revan assured me. "Even if he wants to."

"Yes, I'm meeting him there. Gods know what I'm going to say."

"Grovel a lot," Revan advised with a wicked smile. "This is your chance to improve on that particular skill. You never were any good at it."

"And you were?" I retorted.

We had been standing at the door, and with a wink and a wave, Revan headed the opposite direction. Pausing halfway down the corridor, she called "Docking bay nine!" and hurried away.

I had forgotten to ask, which just showed how rattled I really was. I asked directions to the dock from a passing soldier, who offered to escort me. I gratefully accepted, and followed him through the amazingly confusing corridors until we stood in front of the correct door.

"How do I find out if Atton Rand has arrived yet?" I asked politely of my escort.

"I'll check for you, Master Jedi Ma'am," the young man seemed confused as to how to address me, and I corrected him gently.

"I'm sorry, I haven't introduced myself properly. Master Ladria, and you are..?" I smiled pleasantly at him, and he actually blushed. He couldn't be a day over nineteen.

"Ensign Bland, Ma'am, er, Master Ladria," he stammered. "I'll just check on that arrival for you now," he said quickly, and trotted off, returning a minute later.

"Jedi Atton Rand is landing now, Master Ladria," he reported. "You can go in shortly. The light will turn green over the door when it's safe."

I knew that perfectly well, but no need to embarrass the boy. "Thank you for your help," I said warmly. "I've kept you from your duties long enough. Please thank your supervisor for allowing me to monopolize your time."

"No trouble at all, Master Ladria," he smiled eagerly. "Will you need escort back to your quarters?"

"That won't be necessary," I said pleasantly. Like hell I wanted a witness to Atton's temper. "I'm sure I can find my way back."

"All right, then," he seemed unsure whether to bow, salute, or shake my hand and settled for clicking his heels with a short head bob. "Don't hesitate to ask for me if you need anything. Ensign Bland."

"Thank you, Ensign," I smiled. He didn't seem in a hurry to leave, and I was trying to think of a polite way get rid of him when I spotted the green light.

"Well, that's my cue. I better go," I said brightly, and slipped through the door before he could say anything more.

I was surprised when I saw the ship. At first, I thought Canderous had lent Atton the Phoenix, Jennet's wedding gift to him. But looking closer, I realized it wasn't the same ship; the markings were slightly different. Then I saw Atton coming down the ramp, looking handsome in his Jedi robes, a bag slung across his chest. I approached hesitantly; his face gave me no clue what he was thinking, and I knew better than to try and intrude mentally. I'd get nothing but Pazzak strategy, and he'd be irritated I'd tried. He stopped at the end of the ramp when he saw me.

"Hello," I said, trying for a light tone.

"Hi," he said shortly.

"Where did you find another Falcon?" I asked, nodding at the ship. "Is it yours?"

"Yeah," he said, and even his irritation with me couldn't overshadow the pride of ownership. "Turns out the fool that died had two of them."

"How fortunate for you," I said, smiling at his enthusiasm. I recalled that Jennet had found the Phoenix at a used ship lot. The previous owner had died recently, heavily in debt, no doubt largely due to his taste in expensive playthings. "What's her name?"

"Soul of the Sphinx," he said.

The Phoenix's full name was Soul of the Phoenix. Apparently the late and not very lamented former owner enjoyed mythological themes. Sphinx was a very good name for a ship belonging to Atton; the man could hide anything. I refrained from mentioning this, however.

"I wouldn't have thought you could afford it," I said, and could have bit my tongue.

"There's a lot you don't know about me," he said tersely.

"I'm sure there is," I answered as evenly as possible. "I think I know the important things, though."

This wasn't going at all as I would want it, and I couldn't seem to make myself stop saying stupid things. Atton, on the other hand, seemed in no hurry to say anything helpful. Suddenly, I was simply fed up from feeling guilty, and sparing his feelings. I'd missed him horribly, and if he couldn't believe that, well, screw him.

That I'd even thought it startled me. I'm not given to vulgar language.

He was looking at me silently, and I wanted to flinch at the hurt and anger in his eyes. Well, to hell with it. I didn't blame him but I'd be damned if I'd let it ruin the rest of my day. I thought briefly of what Annie might do, and almost grinned. Instead, I closed the short distance between us, grabbed double fistfuls of his robes, and yanked his mouth down to mine. I'm short enough that he almost lost his balance, and grabbed at my waist to keep from falling over. I took shameless advantage of this and snuggled closer.

His lips were stiff and unresponsive for a long moment, and then I felt his arms wind around me, pulling me closer, and his mouth softened. I felt more than heard the groan deep in his throat. I was making more than a few incoherent noises myself and sincerely hoped no one was watching. Then his tongue touched mine and I stopped thinking at all. His hands moved slowly up my body until he was tenderly cradling my face. Mine were clinging to his shoulders, wanting to pull him even closer. All the pent up emotions in both of us rose up and drowned us in that one perfect moment.

Then suddenly, he set me away from him, and his face was thunderous, the dark brown eyes snapping fire.

"You think you can leave me, just sneak away without any warning, then come back and kiss me like that and everything's okay now?" he said, and I wish he'd shouted; this low venom hurt far worse.

For the first time in my life, my mouth got me into huge trouble. I must have been channeling Annie, or maybe Jennet, it certainly wasn't what I'd meant to say. But to my horror, what popped out was "Well, yes, that's about right."

It should have been funny; given the circumstances, it decidedly wasn't. Atton looked at me for a long moment, and very quietly said, "I'm not sure I know you anymore. Or if I ever did."

"I'm sorry," I said, equally quietly. "I shouldn't have said that. I've missed you so much, and I was horribly nervous about seeing you again. You have every right to be angry with me."

"I've missed you too," he said, and I could tell he meant it. "Every day since you left. But you didn't _have_ to miss me, and that's the hell of it, isn't it? You chose to go. I promised I wouldn't leave you, ever. I didn't count on _you_ leaving _me_."

"I didn't _want_ to leave you," I said desperately. "I had to, don't you understand? Kriea had said I couldn't take anyone I loved with me."

"Did it ever occur to you," Atton said in a pleasantly reasonable tone, which I knew meant he was now beyond angry, "that the old hag lied?"

I stared at him, speechless. That was something I'd never considered, and I could have kicked myself. "No." I said with difficulty.

"Well, it did to me. But you never gave me the opportunity to talk to you about it. You just made up your mind, drugged me, and took off. Great beginning for a relationship, sweetheart." His voice was bitter and hard, and I flinched. "Well, the bitch got what she wanted, even from the grave. Her last breath was used to sow distrust between the good guys."

"Please," I said, and felt tears starting to fall. "Atton, please, can't we talk about this? I've made a mistake, but…"

"I'm here," he interrupted, very carefully. "That should tell you I want to talk. And I'll be honest, that kiss makes me want to just forget everything else and start over. But I can't forget you didn't trust me enough to have at least _asked_ me to stay behind."

"I tried," I said, and was suddenly furious. "And you told me not to ask such a thing of you. I believe the exact words were 'I can't leave you now; don't ask me again.' So who, exactly, was being unreasonable?" my voice was low and as close to snarling as it gets.

"Yeah, well I figured I'd have a day or so to bring up the possibility of Kriea lying. But no, you drugged me that very night, and I woke up to a goodbye on a holovid. You didn't even bother to give me one personally, oh no, it was a _group_ goodbye!"

"I DID leave you a personal one, you moron!" I was shouting now, and for an instant Atton looked shocked.

"Well excuse me for not finding it. Where did you leave it, on Onderon?" he was reduced to bitter sarcasm, but I was too angry to care.

"I put it in your credit pouch, idiot. The one thing I _knew_ you wouldn't lose." I throttled my voice back to a contemptuous iciness. "I should have slipped it into your Pazzak deck."

He glared at me, slipped the strap of his bag over his head, let it fall, and yanked his belt off. Sliding off his credit pouch, he upended it, credit discs spilling out and hitting the deck, bouncing all over. We looked down, and there, near my foot, was a holodisc. We stared at it for a good minute.

"Damned stupid place to leave it," he said conversationally.

"I see that now," I agreed. "I didn't think you'd appreciate me leaving it with Bao Dur, though."

"It might have been better that way," he said, and bent to gather up his credits. I knelt too, grabbing the slippery things and handing them over. We silently stood. He replaced the pouch and refastened his belt.

"I'm still mad," he said after a moment.

"I know."

"You should have talked to me about it more."

"Yes."

"You shouldn't have just left like that."

"No."

"It will take time to forgive you."

"I understand."

"I don't know if we can just wipe the slate clean and start over."

"I get that."

"What," he said exasperatedly, "The _hell_ are you doing?"

"Groveling," I said seriously.

"Well, you're not good at it," he grumbled. He paused, shaking his head. "Or maybe you're too damn good at it."

"I know," I said cheerfully. "Did you miss me?"

"Every damn minute you were gone," he said, and yanked me to him to kiss me senseless.

This time, he didn't set me away. I was so happy I thought my heart would burst into a million pieces, and I kissed him with every bit of passion I'd stored in six months of miserable loneliness. He scooped me off the deck, his lips never leaving mine, and carried me into the Sphinx, leaving his bag forgotten on the ramp.

The Captain's cabin was not far from the hatch, and he elbowed the door mechanism when we reached it, reluctant to put me down even for a moment. I had no argument with this and sighed happily, concentrating on devouring his tongue. I got a very satisfactory moan for that. As the door slid shut behind us, he set me carefully down on the edge of the bed, seating himself next to me. I don't think his lips left mine for more than an instant through any of these maneuvers.

I was reaching for his belt when he suddenly grabbed my hands to stop me. I looked up, startled.

"Wait," he said hoarsely, his dark eyes serious. "It's not that I don't want you."

"Good to know," I smiled.

"But…what did you say in your holovid?"

I shrugged. "Watch it; that's easier than telling you."

"Now?" he asked.

"I don't think things will be right until you see it," I said honestly. "Or at least, on their way to being right between us. It's not that I don't want you," I echoed, and he smiled. "But I'd rather have you knowing you at least are beginning to forgive me, than in the heat of the moment and have things go bad later."

"I think I'm already beginning to," he said. "And was that you talking, or are you channeling Jennet?"

"I seem to be doing that a lot today," I said ruefully. "Must be the company. You have the effect of making me crazy."

"No more than you make me," Atton said, and plugged in the holovid.

I retreated from the edge of the bed to the headboard as the holo began, wrapping my arms around my knees. I didn't watch the screen, but Atton's face. He stayed sitting on the foot of the bed, his back to me, so all I really could see was about a quarter of his profile, and only that because he had to turn his head slightly to see the computer.

"Atton," I said, and unless he was utterly blind he must see the distress on my face. "I don't know if you'll forgive me, love, and I won't blame you if you don't. But you said it tonight; don't ask you to stay behind when I go to find Revan. So I won't ask; I tried that. This is the only way I can think of that you'll let me go alone.

"I hope you're watching this after your initial rage. I hope," my mouth twisted into a wry smile, "there's something left of the camp after you wake up and figure out I'm gone. But most of all, I hope you can eventually understand. I didn't leave you behind because I didn't think you could handle yourself, or get in the way. I trust you to take care of yourself, and me.

"I wish more than anything you could come with me. But when Kriea told me I couldn't take anyone I loved when it was time to join Revan, I knew she meant it. I can't be responsible for your death, or anyone else I love. I can't let my own selfish need for you allow me to be persuaded that it will be all right. I know if I wait any longer, you will convince me to ignore Kriea's warning. And even if it means I'll lose you, I can't live in a universe that doesn't have you in it.

"I love you more than I've loved anyone. Believe that. You've made me want to live like I've never allowed myself to before. You've set me free, in a way I didn't think possible. You _are_ my heart, and my home, and I hope both will be there when I come back. I can live without a heart and a home, you know. What I can't live with is knowing that it was my own need for you that killed you.

"I promise I'll do everything in my power to come back to you. I love you, Atton. Please find it in yourself to forgive me."

The screen went blank, and I still watched Atton's profile. I'd seen absolutely nothing to indicate his feelings during the whole thing, and wanted to scream in frustration that he was so adept at hiding what's going on in his head. But then, that was a particular talent of mine as well. I'd never considered that maybe he couldn't read me either when I chose to be remote. I waited patiently for him to speak.

"Well," he said heavily, "I can't disagree with anything you said."

"Care to clarify that?" I asked.

"I _would_ have convinced you to ignore Kriea's warning, for one," he looked over at me, and smiled wryly. "And as you didn't know what I was thinking, I didn't leave you many options to leave without me."

"True," I said gently. "But I should have waited, and talked it over with you more. And given a few more days, yes, I would have let you convince me it was all right for you to come with me."

"Should have, would have. We have a lot of those. I guess my last question is, would you have agreed with me, if I had had the chance to argue Kriea was lying?" he looked at me seriously.

"I would have believed _you_ thought it was true," I said carefully. "But no, I wouldn't have agreed with it. At the time."

"But you do now?" he asked, with a hint of a scowl.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Before I answer that, let me qualify something. When I faced Kriea at Malachor V, the bond I shared with her was still in effect. I could feel many things from her at the time, and her absolute sincerity of what she saw in the future was genuine. What took me some time to understand was that the reason she was so adept at lying was that either what she said was true, but twisted so that it seemed to have a different meaning, or that she had set up the lie so completely that over time she actually _believed_ it was true. And occasionally, she was absolutely honest." I looked at Atton seriously, and he nodded, indicating he was following my logic so far.

"So when I say I wouldn't have agreed with you, it wasn't because you didn't have a point, or I trusted Kriea's word over yours. It was because at the time, I had felt, directly from Kriea, that what she said was true. You hadn't had that experience."

"Okay," he said slowly. "I can see that. But what changed your mind?"

"When I found Revan, she had trapped her own identity in a mental prison, to keep the Sith from discovering whatever intelligence she had collected. She learned something important, something that the Sith don't want Jedi to know," I began, but Atton interrupted.

"What did she learn?" he asked with interest.

"I don't know yet," I answered, smiling. "Carth and I only managed to break through early this morning. We haven't had time to catch up."

"Okay. So what has this got to do with you changing your mind about Kriea?"

"I'm getting there. So, I finally found Revan, discover she's completely unaware of who she is and why she's a prisoner, and rescue her. I spent a week trying to break down her wall. I knew immediately that she had done it to herself; the amnesia bore the marks of a self-inflicted mind block. She was always good at that sort of thing."

Atton nodded, having a fair amount of talent for that himself. His training as a Jedi hunter taught him many mental tricks; this was nothing new to him.

"What was the trigger?" he asked.

"I don't know what it was that set the block," I said thoughtfully. "But by the end of the week, I had figured out what the trigger was to lift it. Carth and I both had to be present."

"I'll ask you later how you figured that out. Clever, though. She picked the two people in the galaxy that would stop at nothing to find her," he smiled in admiration.

I waited, knowing he'd piece it together in a moment, and I loved watching his mind work.

"But wait…" he said, thinking. "How did she know that you knew Carth? You didn't meet him until you came…" his voice trailed off. "_Revan_ sent you back?" He looked at me, surprised. "Kriea didn't find you, it was Revan?"

"Exactly. Kriea was looking for me, yes. But she only took advantage of the situation when I came back to the Outer Rim. She altered my memories so I would think she was my rescuer."

"And in realizing that, you concluded that most of what she had lead you to believe was a lie," Atton finished. He whistled in admiration. "I have to give the old witch credit; that was masterful work."

"Try being on the receiving end some time," I said dryly.

"I have. Never comfortable," he agreed.

"You have?" I asked, surprised.

"How do you think I learned it myself?" he asked seriously. "They meant business when they trained me. If I couldn't recognize altered memories in myself, they would simply kill me to spare the trouble and expense of further training."

"Can you do it to someone else?" I asked, interested.

"Sometimes," he answered honestly. "I don't, anymore, though."

"Glad to hear it. Can you teach me to recognize altered memories better?"

"Yeah, I can. As much as you've been messed with the last couple of years, I'd feel a hell of a lot better if you trained up on it."

"Me too," I agreed. "Thanks."

Atton gave me a small smile and a nod. We fell silent, and after a time Atton looked at me full on.

"So where are we now?" he asked softly.

"That depends on where you are," I answered.

"Well," he said thoughtfully. "I'm not mad anymore."

"That's a start," I smiled.

"And I do understand, somewhat, why you left the way you did."

"It was wrong," I said quickly.

"Yeah, it was. But I can see that you did try to explain yourself. Bad luck that I never rummaged deep enough into my credit pouch. That _was_ a really stupid place to leave the holodisc," he scolded. "My pocket would have been better."

"I know. But you didn't have any pockets at the time," I reminded him. It was true; I'd thrown a robe over him, one without pockets, I might add. He'd succumbed to the drugs while he was in bed with me.

"Fair point," he allowed. "For an extremely intelligent woman, though, you did some really stupid things."

"Yes," I agreed.

"Is this groveling again?" he asked.

"Does it need to be?"

"Maybe," he said thoughtfully, "If only for entertainment value."

"Jerk," I said, grinning.

"Sneak," he grinned back.

"Look who's talking, smuggler."

"Ex-smuggler," he corrected.

"If you say so," I said skeptically.

"Hey," he protested. "Jedi now, understand? I'm noble and self-sacrificing. I even bore myself with my goodness."

"Atton," I said seriously, "boring is not a word I could ever use to describe you."

"That's a relief," he said sincerely. "Will you marry me?"


	9. To Forgive, Divine

"What?!" I yelped. I don't think I've ever yelped before; now here I was, yelping.

"Not the response I was looking for." Atton sounded amused, but his eyes were serious. I blinked at him in confusion.

"You haven't forgiven me yet," I said idiotically.

"I thought," he said, scooting across the bed and leaning close, "I just did."

This kiss was devoid of any anger, or mistrust. His lips ever so gently touched mine, not demanding, or searching, just moving softly and tasting me. It was the sweetest kiss I'd ever experienced, and I melted into a puddle.

"Oh," I breathed as he pulled away and looked deep into my eyes.

"Is that a yes?" he asked, and I nodded, wordlessly.

"Good," he said in satisfaction, and kissed me again.

Something of my brain crawled back to the surface, and I pushed him back a little, searching his face.

"Why?" I asked, and saw his dark eyes crinkle at the corners in a smile.

"Because I'd rather be crazy with you than without you," he answered.

"This isn't an impulse you'll regret later, to keep me from running off again without you?" I hated to ask, but couldn't help it; Atton does have a tendency to do things by pure instinct….oh.

He looked at me with amusement, not at all offended by my question, knowing I'd come up with the answer on my own. I think he enjoys watching my mind work as much as I love watching his.

"Your instinct is usually right," I said softly. "And it tells you to marry me."

"Got it in one, sweetheart," he grinned, and swooped to capture my mouth with his own.

The fire ignited immediately, and I lost myself in its flames. It started at his mouth, and scorched its way down to the soles of my feet. I could feel it in him too; I was mildly surprised his robes weren't smoking from the heat. Our mouths burned, but instead of pain, it brought sweet dizzy desire. I yanked at his belt, undoing it in swift jerky movements. It fell away, and his robes were loose under my hands. I started to slip them under the cloth, but he had his own on my belt, and pulled it away with short, almost savage movements. Then he was stroking bare flesh, and I whimpered with the intense pleasure of his touch. I plunged my own under his robes, wanting to feel his skin, warm and alive and quivering.

He scooted forward to keep his balance and gripped the shoulders of my robes, pulling down and I obligingly helped him shrug the heavy garment off. It ended up in a heap on the floor, followed shortly by Atton's. I reveled in the beauty of his naked torso and shoulders, admiring the strong lines combined with smooth toned skin. I couldn't resist running my hands over every inch of that broad chest, wide shoulders, long arms, following each stroke with kisses and tiny sharp nibbles. I smiled when I heard him sharply inhale when I hit a particularly sensitive spot, where his neck and shoulder meet. I concentrated my efforts there until he groaned and pulled away, eyes dark.

We were both still clad in breeches and boots; in addition, I still had on a workout bra. I briefly cursed myself for not thinking to wear anything prettier and recalled that Annie had chosen my clothes for me. It didn't seem to matter; I could see Atton remembering the first time he'd seen me, clad in only standard issue non-lust inspiring underwear and still wanting me on the spot. I shivered as his thoughts were projected in his eyes, and started to pull the bra off. He stopped me, and just looked at me a moment. Then he slowly, so very slowly, reached out and tugged it up, drawing out the moment, forcing me to raise my arms over my head. Then it was gone, and his mouth was at my breasts, and thinking was no longer possible. Somewhere in the middle of him worshiping my breasts, I started to pull the pins from my hair. The movement caused him to look up at what I was doing.

"No," he breathed, "let me."

I nodded, and he kissed me briefly on the mouth before plunging his hands into the mass of my hair. Those clever long fingers soon had the pins free, and the heavy dark red silk spilled down my back. It was even longer than it had been when I met him; almost as long as Annie's. I kept meaning to cut it to a more manageable length, but the look in Atton's eyes made me glad I hadn't. He ran his hands through the softness, pulling the locks over my shoulders. Leaning forward, he rubbed his cheek against the silk of my hair where it fell over my left breast.

My fingers stole into his own dark locks, longer than usual, I noticed for the first time; it was long enough now that he'd pulled it back into a short ponytail at the nape. I tugged the thong holding it free, and his hair floated just above his shoulders. I pushed him back to see the effect and decided I liked it. He smiled, a little uncertainly.

"I kind of quit cutting it," he said

"It grows fast," I said admiringly, running my fingers through the dark brown locks. They had a slight wave, and were as soft and silky as my own, though not as thick. "I love it."

"I thought about growing a beard," he said a little breathlessly as I pulled him closer and started kneading his scalp, his cheek resting against the swell of my breasts. His arms went around my waist, and we took a minute to just touch, and feel each other again.

"Might be interesting," I said, smiling over his shoulder. "I can't picture it, though. And it would tickle when you kissed me."

"Maybe I will then," he said, and pulled back to kiss me with non-tickling lips.

"Not right away," I gasped when we came up for air.

"Whatever you say," he answered, and traced the line of my jaw with his tongue, sending shivers down my spine.

When he nipped my earlobe, I almost jumped out of my skin. His hands soothed my quivering flesh, and I found myself laying back against the pillows, his mouth setting me on fire again, slowly moving down my torso. Reaching my waist, he paused, and slipped smoothly, catlike, down to the foot of the bed, deftly pulling my boots off and removing my socks. He quickly removed his own footgear, then leaned over to gently nibble my toes and trace the arch of my foot with his tongue. I moaned, and he repeated the gesture with the other foot.

The initial all-consuming flame was still burning, but controlled now, and Atton seemed in no hurry; in fact, he was bent on drawing out every moment. I had no complaints, but wanted him closer. I started to scoot down to join him near the foot of the bed, but he stopped me by placing one big hand on my stomach; the other was kneading my right foot. Satisfied I wouldn't move, he used both powerful hands to squeeze my foot, digging his thumbs into the muscle and rubbing away tension and soreness. He took his time about it, and gave equal attention to my left foot. By the time he stopped, I was practically purring with a combination of being utterly relaxed but completely aroused. I had no idea how he did it. I didn't care.

My eyes were closed in bliss, but they opened when I felt his weight slide up the bed to lay along side me. His dark brown eyes were nearly black from desire and emotion. He reached for me, and we kissed, long and deep and full of longing. I wanted to feel every bit of his skin, and my hands were busy stroking and lightly running my nails down his back. He shivered and I smiled. His hand finally tugged at the waistband of my breeches, and soon I was free of clothing. Somehow, he'd managed to get his own pants off, and his hands…oh my gods, he knew just where to touch me. I bucked and squirmed and moved closer as he slowly, gently but insistently brought me to an even higher level of arousal. I wanted to burst out of my body, and my heart was beating so loud I could hear it thudding in my ears. Then he was above me, eyes locked with mine. He whispered "I love you," and plunged into me. My back arched and I clung to his shoulders, gasping with the shock and pleasure of connection.

I wanted to say I loved him too, but I had no voice, only intense waves of pleasure crashing around me; all I could manage were small whimpering sounds. He grinned, seeing the words in my eyes, and moved slowly, so slowly. His weight pinned me down, and he had utter control; despite my wordless pleading, he was refusing to go faster, and insisted on teasing me with slow, deliberate strokes that heightened my awareness with every move. I could feel our auras merge along with our bodies and could swear their light shone around us.

Then my own power over him overcame both of us, and the controlled fire became a raging inferno.

I could feel his presence in my mind, and mine in his, thoughts roared between us, images ran uncontrolled through our heads. Our movements grew fast and frantic and demanding, power against power, and neither of us was stronger than the other. Our world shrank to the two of us, our own universe of desire and possession, give and take, demand and acceptance and sweet, burning submission. We rode the wave, as close as two people can be, mind and heart and body and soul. We reached the peak, rode it down, and climbed it again, helpless against its power. I never wanted it to stop, and neither did he. The pure joy of it drowned us, and we gulped every drop.

We finally washed up on the shore, spent and boneless from satisfied desire. There were no words; we didn't need them. Everything we felt had been said in the middle of the storm, mind to mind, heart to heart. I was his now, absolutely, no barrier between us. And he was mine, gladly. My last thought as we crawled under the covers was I understood now what it was to love like Canderous and Jennet did, to be soul mates. There is no choice in it, but that doesn't matter. I gave myself over to his keeping, and knew I was safe, and loved. His soul was in my hands, and I cradled it protectively.

"_You know I have to go," I said patiently as Atton paced around the common area of the Ebon Hawk. _

_We'd been arguing for hours, it felt like. Our companions had deserted to other parts of the camp, leaving Atton and me to hash things out. I wasn't worried about them finding places to stay; the temporary barracks Jarxel, Canderous' second in command, had ordered built to house the visiting Republic soldiers was still standing. The wedding of Mandalore and his Mate had been four days ago. Carth had left with his men two days before, leaving plenty of bunk space in the camp. I suspected several of our shipmates were finding more personal, private refuge. I shook off the thoughts that I was using to distract myself and dragged my attention back to Atton._

"_I know that," Atton said yet again. "What I don't understand is why you're insisting you have to go alone. I can help, and I have experience with the Sith. It's crazy for you to go by yourself."_

"_It's what I have to do," I said as calmly as possible. "I told you what Kriea saw. Anyone I love would not survive it. I can't risk that."_

"_I'm willing to chance it. I have the right to choose to take my own risks," Atton argued._

"_If anyone could go, love, I would want it to be you. I can't disagree with anything you've said. And I can't offer anything in argument that makes any logical sense. I just know that you can't go with me. No one can." I'd said it over and over, and we weren't getting anywhere._

"_Please," Atton said suddenly, all fight and resentment gone. "Please, Dria, don't go alone. If you won't take me, take some of the others. Even one. Just one. Bao Dur would go if you asked him, you know he would. Or Visas. Any one of us would. Please. If not me, just don't go alone." _

_He'd dropped to his knees in front of me, taking my hands and looking up at my face. The pose made him look somehow penitent and I wasn't sure at all it suited him. I fought off the desire to let him talk me into it, just to take that humbleness off his face._

"_It's not about that," I said softly. "It's not about who I love most. You're asking me to risk someone I love, regardless. Does that make it any better, because it's not you? Would I be any less responsible, losing someone I love a little less? I can't do that, Atton, and taking someone else instead of you would make me a selfish hypocrite on top of it all."_

"_Then I'm going," he said flatly, and stood. "You can't stop me, and I won't let you go alone." His face was set like stone._

"_No," I said, equally flat._

"_Dria…" his face softened, realizing that his stubbornness wasn't going to move me. He sat next to me, taking my hands again. He kissed them, one after the other, and I was shocked to see tears in his eyes. I was cynical enough to wonder if he was simply being manipulative; he could do that very well, and I knew at this point he was desperate enough to try. But his next words dispelled the thought. "I can't lose you. Please, love, I can't leave you now. Don't ask me again."_

_I sat very still for a long moment, thinking furiously and careful not to show it. It broke my heart to ask Atton to stay behind. I knew I wouldn't be any less resolved to change his mind if our positions were reversed. But I couldn't let him go; Kriea had been clear on that._

"_All right," I said, and put as much sincerity in that small phrase as I could. The best lie is the truth, after all. "I won't."_

"_Thank you," he said quietly, and kissed me gently on the forehead. _

_I could have wept, deceiving him like this, but he'd left me no choice. I knew what I had to do now. I would leave this night, before he could get me to agree for real. I'd lose him anyway, I was sure, but he'd live. That was all that mattered to me, in the end. _

_Feeling like I'd ripped my heart out and left it bloody and defenseless on the deck, I let him make us dinner, and made an excuse to visit the 'fresher. I detoured to the infirmary and slipped tiny packets of powerful sleeping drugs into my sleeve._

_After we ate, he took my hand and led me to our cabin, and he made exquisitely tender love to me, and I returned every touch, every kiss, shared every heartbeat, knowing it was likely the last time I'd ever have it. I was the lowest of hypocrites, and knew it, but I was selfish enough to need this piece of him to take with me. He would hate me in the morning, and my soul bled knowing it._

_But I was very good at hiding my feelings, even from Atton, and he was so used to keeping his thoughts to himself that he didn't try to share mine at all. And he trusted me; he didn't look at the glasses next to the bed before he poured water from the pitcher we kept on the nightstand. The powder dissolved instantly. I'd dosed both glasses, knowing I would be able to metabolize the drug easily; my healing was far stronger than his. He drank his glass down quickly, as was his habit, and I sipped at mine. It took effect very fast, and he didn't notice the drowsiness wasn't natural until it was too late to combat it._

_The last look he gave me was sleepy astonishment; he didn't even have time to look angry. All I could hope now was that he would forgive me. I certain he'd never trust me again. And at last, I did weep, for everything I was giving up, and taking away._

I woke with a start, with Atton holding me and murmuring soothing nothings in my ear. His chest was soaked with my tears and my nose felt swollen and stuffy. The dream memory was hanging over me, and I felt almost paralyzed with grief and regret. I looked up and Atton's brown eyes were filled with concern.

"You were crying in your sleep," he said unnecessarily. "Not quite the reaction I would hope for after making love to you," he joked weakly.

"I'm sorry," I said automatically, and cleaned my face off with a corner of the sheet. "I was dreaming…"

"…of the night you left me,"Atton finished unexpectedly.

My head jerked up and I stared at him, astonished. "How could you know that?"

"I could guess it," he said quietly, "by what you were muttering in your sleep. You were saying my name, and that you were sorry, begging me to forgive you. And you said something else…that you loved me, but understood. But that wasn't all of it; I saw it too. I woke before you did, from the same dream."

"How do you know it was the same dream?" I asked, completely thrown by this development.

"Because you told me," was the bizarre answer.

I looked at him, mouth open. "I don't understand," I said finally.

"It was the strangest thing I've ever experienced," Atton said, staring at me. "At first, it was just a regular dream; I don't even remember now what it was. And then, I was dreaming about the night you left, but not through my eyes; it was through yours. I could see me, sitting next to you, kissing your hands, asking you not to ask me to stay behind again. But it was your head I was in, and I heard you planning on drugging me and taking off when I was out. I watched myself go into the galley, and was with you when you went into the med bay and got the powder. And I felt everything, Dria. I felt you cry after you drugged me, and how you were certain I would never trust you again. I asked if it was a dream, and your voice said yes, it was, but it was also a memory."

I stared, eyes wide. It's not that unusual to share dreams between people who are Force bound, and Atton and I certainly were that. But to the extent that you actually _inhabit _the other person is rare. I recalled the mental walls breaking down between us while we had been making love. That wasn't as unusual as it sounds either; it was a mark of deep trust to do that. Masters and Padawan often use their connection to communicate. The only thing that was out of the ordinary was that sex had been involved, rather than meditation or emergency.

Under the former Order rules, Jedi weren't celibate, no matter what the rest of the galaxy believes. We're taught to regard our natural sexual needs as normal and healthy. But control over all aspects of our minds and bodies is paramount in Jedi training; to give in to the urge indiscriminately is severely frowned upon. Most have a certain amount of sexual experience; it was permanent emotional relationships that were forbidden, or at least strongly discouraged. Some did choose celibacy as the simplest way to avoid emotional attachment. Most confined their sexual activity to the occasional indulgence between friends. I had split the difference, myself; Atton was only the third lover I had ever had. But on the whole, Jedi don't allow that much mental sharing during sex. And to extend it to dream sharing to the extent we had was nearly unheard of.

"Do you think we'll do this a lot?" I asked uncertainly. "Is this an extension of your mental training?"

"I don't know," Atton said quietly. "It wasn't me that did it, sweetheart, it was you. You projected into my mind, I could tell that much."

"Oh," I said, very small. "I didn't mean to."

"You did mean to," he said carefully. "Not consciously, but you did. You can't get that far into someone's mind without intent. You're my Master, and I'm your Padawan; sharing thoughts isn't unusual. But even so, it's damned hard to get through to _my_ mind. Kriea could, but she was much stronger than you in that respect. You are a more powerful and experienced Jedi than I am, obviously. You likely could break through eventually on your own if I was resisting you, even with my training. You got through now, though, because I let you."

I looked at him in confusion. "I did it, but you let me do it? I've never done anything like this in my life. All Jedi learn to communicate mentally, although the usual level isn't even close to what Jennet and Canderous do, even with a Force bond in effect. It's standard to sense each other's presence, to see auras, block our own minds from being invaded, and influence others if necessary. But what just happened is different than any of that. What you're implying is that I unconsciously projected myself into your mind, and you just stood aside and let me? And I let you inside mine? Literally placing you in my body, in a dream."

"That's it, yeah," Atton said soberly.

"And you let me do it." I think that was the part that rattled me most.

"Yes."

I took a deep breath. I wasn't frightened, exactly, but puzzled and a little wary; it wasn't like me to lose control like this. Atton had on his blank face, which usually meant he was feeling something he wasn't ready to share, or working through it mentally. In this case, I was betting both.

"Okay, so I have a power I apparently didn't know existed, let alone that I possessed," I said once my calm had returned.

"I don't think that's it," Atton said slowly. "I think this is a side effect of our Force bond."

"If that's the case, then I won't do this to anyone else," I said with some relief.

"Well, you make Force bonds a lot easier than most Jedi, and they stick stronger as well. Every one of us recent Jedi has one with you; me, Bao Dur, Mira, Visas, Disciple. The only reason you don't with Jennet is she was pretty much Master level before you ever met her, if not formally trained. It's possible you could with any of your other Padawan. You shared a deep bond with Kriea as well; she might have passed on some of her advanced ability to you." His tone was calm in the way it was when I knew he was holding something back.

"What is it?" I asked, addressing what he wasn't saying.

"Give me a minute, okay?" he said, running a hand through his hair.

"All right," I said.

Now that I was no longer in the grip of the grief and confusion I had woke up with, my mind was running through the possibilities of what had happened, and coming to the same conclusions Atton had voiced. But something was not quite right about the theory, and I ran through the data again. Force bond, yes, that I agreed with. But…

"It wasn't just me," I said at the same time that Atton said, "I did it too."

We looked at each other, a little stunned by the realization. The reason that Force bonds are so rare is that Jedi mental training is stringent. Keeping yourself from being influenced by another person's mind is one of the first lessons you learn. Even the uninitiated can sense when someone is invading deeper than surface thoughts and the brain automatically sets up a defense against it by pure survival instinct. That automatic block can be penetrated, but it takes concentration and skill. Surface thoughts are much easier and usually can be read and influenced undetected, unless the target has the sort of training Atton had, or a Jedi. There are, of course, people that have a natural resistance.

But Force bonds are forged through a significant event, when one Force sensitive connects to another, and abilities are shared when both minds are unshielded. Usually. Mine work differently, and until now no one was quite sure why I could forge them so easily, including me. I think I knew why now, and from Atton's face I was sure he had figured it out too.

"It's emotional," I said, staring at Atton. "Emotion bypasses mental blocks, inspires trust, causes mental shields to drop."

"You form bonds because you care so deeply, and people feel it," Atton agreed. "It blows right by mental training, because it's not manipulating the mind, it's manipulating the heart. Except it's not manipulation, really, it's love." The last word was breathed like a prayer, and I looked at him sharply.

"You make me sound like a perfect love goddess or something, and we know that's not true," I said pointedly.

"I disagree; to me you are a goddess," his most charming smile flashed, and I grinned back involuntarily. "But of course you're not perfect. You make mistakes. You can be very introverted, reluctant to share the full extent of your feelings with others. You're stubborn, occasionally manipulative, and ruthless when necessary. You're also remarkably slow to share thoughts or plans with anyone. But all those things are strengths, as well as flaws, if used in the right way."

"Sounds like someone else I know," I said pointedly. "Except the introverted part."

"True enough; makes us a good match," Atton said easily. "I'm more manipulative than you are, though. But I've never met anyone better at hiding what's on their mind than me, until you. And I understand why, now. I couldn't figure out why someone as warm and caring and passionate as you came off as a repressed ice queen at first. Because for you, over-sharing leads to Force bonds, if it's with a sensitive. You might not have known it consciously, but something inside you did, and protected yourself and others from becoming bonded if it wasn't necessary."

"You thought I was an ice queen?" I asked, eyebrows raised.

I wasn't hurt by the notion; I'd been called it to my face more than once by Jedi who I turned down sexually. Jedi society can be as gossip-ridden and petty at times as any other structured group of sentients. But even when I might have been interested, I generally avoided close emotional or physical contact. Only Annie and Mak ever got truly close, until I came back and formed bonds with my recruits.

"Sure," Atton said, unembarrassed at the admission. "Didn't stop me from wanting you. And it's not the same as frigid. That never crossed my mind."

I'd been sitting up in the bed, sheet carelessly draped over my lap. By habit, I was cross-legged, elbows on my knees and leaning my chin on my hands. Atton was on his side, propped on one elbow, looking at me with the unfamiliar long hair floating around his head. I saw something on his face, something deeper than the light tone he'd just used, and cocked my head at him, inviting further observation.

"But that doesn't explain you doing it too," I prompted when he didn't speak.

He stared up at my face so long I wondered if there was something wrong. Then, very softly, he said, "It's love, that's all."

"Well, that cleared things up," I said, smiling.

"Your Force bonds are formed by love, but I loved you before our bond was forged; it just intensifies things between us. It was love that made you project, and me invade your mind, and why we each let the other do it. You needed to show me that night, through your eyes, and I needed to understand." Atton's voice was soft, and he wasn't quite meeting my eyes.

"Okay, it's a shock, yes, but if it's love, then what's wrong?" I asked, frowning slightly.

"It's just…" he looked away for a moment, then met my eyes full on. There was a look in his that I couldn't place at first because I'd never seen it on Atton's face before. It was humility. I felt a lump forming in my throat; it was so very wrong for this proud, confident man to look like that.

"No one has ever loved me that much," he said simply. "I honestly thought the last six months I was a fool for loving you, because obviously you didn't feel the same, or you wouldn't have tricked me, or left me." He took my hand as I started to speak, shaking his head to keep me silent. His dark eyes were luminous. "But it wasn't that at all. You love me so much you were willing to lose me to keep me alive. You didn't hesitate to risk me hating you, living without me, because my life meant more to you than your own feelings and needs. I didn't get that. I do now. And I know I don't deserve it. Especially after some of the things I've called you in my head the last six months," he gave a faint smile, a mockery of his usual cocky grin.

"It's all right," I said softly. "I don't blame you in the slightest. I would have been calling you the same things, if it had been the other way around. And I wish you would stop thinking you don't deserve to be loved. You're a good man, Atton."

"Maybe," he shrugged. "I'm starting to think that I am, now, I guess. I've had some good influences lately," he smiled wryly. "But I still look for the main chance, and can't help being a bit of a con artist."

"You'd fit right in with the old Jedi Order," I said dryly. "A bigger bunch of hypocrites and con artists I've never met. But they meant well."

Atton laughed, a genuine hearty sound that made me smile and join in. He gathered me up and kissed me soundly. "Maybe so. With me in it, the new Order might not be so different after all."

"We'll see," I smiled, and kissed him back.


	10. Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?

Author's note: A pretty short chapter, I know...sorry. Hope you enjoy it, though. Please review, I really appreciate feedback!

Always, LJ

* * *

Not long after, the comm buzzed, and I threw on a robe to answer. Revan's face appeared on the screen, looking almost indecently happy. I smiled to see it, and wondered if I had a similar expression in my eyes. I must have, because she took one look and grinned.

"I see you're still on board. Atton didn't let you get sucked into space?" she teased.

"Not so far," I smiled.

"Carth and I were wondering if you wanted to join us for dinner. I'd like to meet your Atton," she invited. She peered out of the viewscreen, trying to catch a glimpse.

"He's in the 'fresher," I laughed. "You'll see him soon enough."

"Is he handsome?" she asked wickedly.

"Very," I confirmed.

"Ohhh, I can't wait. About an hour? Dress casual," she said carelessly, and signed off.

"I don't own casual," I muttered under my breath as Atton walked in. He hadn't bothered to dress yet and I loved watching him naked; all long lines and clean limbs and beautifully coordinated movement, like a big cat.

"You don't what?" he asked, flopping down on the bed.

"Own anything casual to wear," I said, shrugging. "Revan and Carth invited us to dinner. She wants to get a look at you."

"You could wear that dancing costume from when you performed for the Hutt on Nar Shadaa," Atton teased. "I wouldn't call it casual, but I like it."

I nudged him playfully with my foot; that costume was barely decent. "I do have to walk through the rest of this warship to get to the admiral's quarters," I admonished him. "My reputation would be shot."

"You didn't mind it then," he pointed out, just to get a rise out of me. I refused to give him the satisfaction.

"It was necessary," I said serenely, "and it wasn't in front of a ship full of soldiers that know I'm Jedi."

"Forgot about the ship full of soldiers part," Atton said thoughtfully. "Okay, that's out. Can't have them ogling my girl."

"That's more important than keeping up the Jedi image, I take it," I observed dryly.

"With me in the Order, it's shot all to hell anyway," he said cheerfully. "Although Mira runs me a close second for attitude."

"I'd say she outstrips you," I grinned. "From sheer mouthiness."

"Probably," he agreed. "Keep thy words sweet, and thy temper, and smooth flows the path to Heaven," he quoted, his voice beautifully modulated.

"You have the sweet words down. The temper might need a little work," I teased. "I never knew you read poetry."

"I like poetry," his tone was slightly defensive. "Languages interest me, and poetry is the best example of any language. Plus, women like it," he scooted forward and kissed my cheek with a roguish grin.

"I used to read poetry when I was on campaign," I said reflectively. "I found it helped center me. That, and music."

"Good music is food for the soul," Atton picked up my hand and traced the lines of my palm. "I've heard some of yours. You have great taste. I know," he said suddenly, changing the subject. "Wear your breeches and boots," he told me, hooking a foot on the back of the chair and turning it so I faced him squarely. He towed the chair closer and gave a sharp jerk so I tumbled forward onto the bed.

"Very smooth," I said, admiring his dexterity and kissing his nose.

"You fell on purpose," he said, kissing me back.

"Of course I did," I agreed. "I need a shower, and what am I wearing besides pants and boots?"

"That's enough for me," he grinned.

"Too much, you mean," I laughed. "Annie wouldn't mind, but I think Carth would have a hard time deciding where to look."

"You have a point. Okay, wear one of my tunics. I'll grab one while you're in the shower. Better yet, you can pick one after _we're _out of the shower. Do you want me to move in to your room, or do you want to stay on the Sphinx?"

"You're already packed," I pointed out. "It'll take too much time to transfer my things from my room; we'll never manage it before dinner."

"Packed?" he asked blankly.

"The bag you dropped on the ramp," I reminded him.

"Shit!" he exclaimed, darted for the door.

"Atton, you're naked!" My protest made him stop mid-stride.

"Oh yeah," he looked sheepish. "We're not parked somewhere private. Not that the soldiers would care much if I went out there nude, I suppose."

"If they're female, they'll likely stampede," I grinned. "But I don't really want to share."

"Never mind now," he shrugged. "There's something in there…well, it's not likely to get stolen on a Republic ship."

"No," I said, eyeing him curiously. "What is it?"

"Later," he said, his blank look back in place. "Let's get showered."

We stopped at my room long enough for Atton to dump his bag, and stow our robes, and headed to Carth's private quarters. I hadn't the slightest idea where exactly it was, but that was solved easily by tuning in on Annie and following her presence. The ship wasn't all that different from the layout of the warship I had commanded nearly sixteen years ago; once I realized that, we ended up just about where I would have guessed. Carth answered our buzz, ushering us in with a huge smile on his face, looking about ten years younger than he had the day before.

"Atton," he said, extending a hand. "Good to see you. I hope things are well with you?"

That, I was sure, was as close to asking if Atton was still mad at me as Carth would ever get. I marveled at his diplomacy, and smiled at the admiral.

"Fabulous, now that Dria's home," Atton said easily, shaking Carth's hand and smiling. "I missed her."

"I know how you feel," Carth answered, and turned to me.

Not letting him bother with my hand, I reached up and gave him a warm hug, kissing his cheek.

"You look wonderful," I said with admiration. It was true; he was rested and obviously happy.

He was dressed much as Atton and I were, breeches and boots, with loose tunic over it in a deep wine red. It suited his hair and eyes. Atton's shirt was simple white, tucked into his pants, a brown vest unbuttoned casually over it. He'd lent me a deep midnight blue shirt that nearly hit my knees and bloused over my belt. I'd had to roll the sleeves up; even with the tight cuffs it was too big for my much smaller wrists. Both Atton and I had our lightsabers hooked to our belts; we never went anywhere without them. Revan appeared then, in the same outfit I'd seen her in this afternoon; loose neutral colored tunic, belted over breeches and high brown boots, 'saber habitually clipped to her side.

She looked up, a smile ready, opening her mouth to greet me and be introduced to the man at my side. I had a split second of seeing her face go from welcoming to horrified recognition before she was across the room, lightsaber lit and bearing down on Atton.

He drew his and barely had it up and blocking her before she was upon him. I lit my own, standing shoulder to shoulder with my lover, and between our blades we trapped Annie's. I saw out of the corner of my eye that Carth had retrieved a blaster from somewhere and had it trained at a point between the three of us, ready to shoot whoever seemed to need it. Revan held steady against the two of us, not backing down.

"I thought she wasn't evil anymore," Atton shot at me.

"What the _hell_ is the matter with you?" I asked Revan furiously, ignoring the comment.

"Dree," she said, her voice low and fierce, "this man is a murderer. He kills Jedi."

"News to me," Carth said, and trained his blaster on Atton.

"That was ten years ago," I said angrily. "He's not a part of the Sith now."

"Not from what I've heard," Revan said grimly. "Rumor in the Unknown Regions has it a year ago Jaq Atrand came out of retirement. Clever name change," she said coolly to Atton.

"Jaq?" I said stupidly, but didn't dare take my eyes off Annie.

"Jaq Atrand died ten years ago," Atton said, his voice as cool at Revan's. "Scared straight."

"Well at least you have the honesty to admit you're a coward," Annie spat.

"If you mean the thought of becoming a dark Jedi under your command scared me, yeah, you're right," Atton said, his face hard. "I hated Jedi, then, and didn't want any part of them, light or dark. But under you, I would have lost my soul. Not a cheery thought."

"Would someone," Carth asked conversationally, "tell me who I should shoot?"

That broke through the impasse, and all three of us warily snuffed our 'sabers.

"You," I said in my command voice, pointing to Annie, "sit."

She looked ready to argue, but took a good look at my face and retreated with dignity to a chair, careful not to turn her back on Atton.

"Carth, put away your blaster," I said, not looking at him, but Revan. I could see him well enough in my peripheral vision and he hesitated. "Now, please," I said, brooking no argument, and he reluctantly stowed it within reach. Good enough. "Atton, give me your lightsaber." Without hesitation, he slapped it into my hand, as a good Padawan should.

I went over to Revan, holding out my hand, and after a long hesitation and a mutinous look, she handed me her 'saber as well. I went over to Carth's blaster and confiscated it too.

"Now," I said as pleasantly as possible, "I'm the only one armed at present. Don't say it," I shot a look at both Atton and Revan, and they subsided. They were both deadly in unarmed combat, but it's a hell of a lot harder to kill someone weaponless. Or at least, it takes longer. "Why don't we figure out this misunderstanding?"

"I think _Atton_ here should explain himself first," Revan said sweetly, but there was venom under it, like poisoned wedding cake.

"There's nothing about me Dria doesn't already know, or guess," Atton said evenly, narrowing his eyes at Annie.

"She didn't know your real name," Revan shot back.

"Atton Rand _is_ my real name," he ground out, glaring at her. "John Atton Rand."

"Well," I said calmly, "I didn't know John was your first name. Have you always gone by Atton?"

He looked at me, his brown eyes wide, and I thought I saw a hint of pleading in them. He answered steadily, "No. When I was in the Republic Army, I was John Rand, Jack, mostly. Private Jack Rand."

Carth spoke unexpectedly. "I've heard of Jack Rand," he said quietly. "Crazy son of a bitch; your commanding officer didn't know whether to give you medal, or put you in the stockade. You saved your platoon by taking on a war cannon single-handed. More than one officer said you were the best scout in the army."

"Yeah, well, I have a talent for getting around unnoticed," Atton shrugged.

"Jack Rand was listed as KIA after Malachor," Carth noted. "Pretty lively for a corpse." He fixed Atton with a mild stare, but the suspicion was evident in his voice.

"I had the records altered before I left with Revan and Malak," Atton looked the admiral in the eye, back straight.

"You do that yourself?" Carth asked, raising his eyebrows.

"I'm good with computers, but not that good," Atton admitted. "Someone owed me a favor."

"This is all very enlightening," I said crisply, "but I want to know who Jaq Atrand is."

"It was the name I used when I was a Jedi hunter," Atton said, very quietly. "I've told you how I felt about Jedi then. When General Revan decided to push on into the Unknown Regions, I wanted to go too. But I've never been one to completely burn bridges; I wanted an out if I needed it. I had a hunch," he explained, and I nodded.

Revan looked ready to say something scathing, and I gave her a sharp look. She bit back whatever she was going to say, and I gave Atton a go ahead gesture.

"I had my records altered, so no one would know I was with Revan. She told the troops that were volunteering to go we had a week; I used it to build a new identity. Jaq Atrand –" he pronounced it 'jock at-rund', "Was close enough to my name that I wouldn't slip up. I took my middle name when I came back. Atton is common, and so is Rand for that matter. Jack, and John, are unusual, so I dropped it. I needed to disappear."

Most of this made sense to me, knowing his history. I gave him a look, and with a sigh, he recited his past to Revan and Carth. Revan still looked suspicious; Carth looked thoughtful.

"Look, I know it seems bad that I hadn't said who I was when I was with the Sith," Atton said to me. "Or that I had created a new identity when I followed Revan. I was just…used to not talking about it, and the worst of it was that I had hunted Jedi. You forgave me that, and helped me forgive myself for it. I figured the rest would come out in time." The pleading look was back.

"I understand," I said gently. "But it's not me you need to convince."

"Son," Carth said quietly, "We've all had things we regret. Some of us more than others," he said with a glance at Revan. "I'm not sure what to make of you, but my instincts tell me you're on the level. Ladria trusts you, and so do the other Jedi I've met. Canderous does, and he's the most suspicious of my friends. So as far as I'm concerned, you're okay. If you ever hurt this woman, though, I'll kill you myself." He nodded my way, shooting me a warm smile.

"Fair enough," Atton said with a faint smile. "I can't promise I won't from time to time, but I'll never do it intentionally."

"Good enough," Carth said approvingly.

"Not with me," Revan said coldly. "You all seem to forget that as of a year ago, I had intel that Jaq Atrand was out of retirement. It was a reliable source. Where were you about fourteen months ago?"

"He was with me," I answered calmly. "On Nar Shadaa, to be exact."

"That's where my information places him," Revan snapped. "Care to explain that?"

I looked at Atton helplessly, and he stared back.

"The Twi'lik," he said softly. "The one who recognized me."

I nodded in understanding, and Atton faced Revan calmly. "That was how I confessed my past to Dria," he said. "Someone recognized me. I was terrified to tell her, but had to when cornered about my past. He must have spread a rumor that I was hunting again. I'm interested in knowing how you know me on sight, when I never met Darth Revan in all the time I was hunting. I was sent on assignment by you occasionally, but we never met face to face."

Revan looked at him, eyes sparking. "I don't forget a face. I had dossiers of every assassin, freelance bounty hunter, and special ops personnel under my command, which included holos. I know you had assassin training as well as mind control; your instructors reported you had a natural gift for mental resistance, and an almost eerie ability to blend in to any situation. You were particularly effective when your target was a woman, I recall. These two are very trusting people," she said, with a nod at me and Carth. "I'm not."

"Neither am I," Atton said. "How do we know you really turned away from the dark side?"

"You insolent little…" Revan jumped to her feet, automatically reaching for the lightsaber that wasn't there. She swore in frustration, glaring at me.

"Temper, temper, Annie," I said cheerfully. "Good thing I confiscated the weaponry. Admiral," I said sweetly, turning to Carth, "I understand there's an observation deck somewhere on this ship. Would you care to join me for a stroll, while Atton and Revan settle their differences? I'm certain dinner can wait."

"I'd be delighted, Master Ladria," Carth said, amused.

"Wait now," Atton protested, as Revan snarled, "Where do you two think you're going?"

"We," I said placidly, "Are going to go stargazing. You two are going to hash this out. Nothing either Carth or I can say will settle it; you'll just accuse us of being…what was that? Oh yes, 'very trusting people'. Now, I'm going to ask for your words of honor that you won't leave this room until there's a truce. I won't bother to lock you in; both of you have better lock picking skills than I do, or, I suspect, Carth does. But he _is_ the commanding officer of the Eternity; you don't play nice, he'll put a lockdown on this room. Is that understood?"

Two sets of eyes glared daggers at me; I smiled back serenely at them. Behind me, I could feel Carth's amusement like a bubbly wave of champagne. Finally, both nodded with short angry gestures.

"Fine then. We'll be on the observation deck when you're ready to have dinner." Carth, who was getting into the spirit of the moment, offered his arm, and I took it with a flourish, following his long stride out the door.

"Do you think they'll kill each other?" Carth said with a laugh when the door slid shut behind us.

"No, but it'll be a near thing," I answered, grinning. "They're an awful lot alike."

"I see that," he said, smiling. "And I have to say I'm impressed with you. I've never seen anyone put Revan in her place so neatly."

"Years of practice," I said with a smile, and we made our way to the observation deck.


	11. Love is a Battlefield

There was a good three minutes of thick silence between Atton and Revan after Carth and Ladria left. Neither was willing to break it, giving the other the upper hand. Finally, with a muttered curse, Atton spoke.

"You outrank me, so I guess I'll start. I don't care what you think of me; there's nothing you can say I haven't already told myself. But you hurt Ladria with your mistrust, or start filling her head with nonsense, and we _will_ have a problem," his voice was quiet, but absolutely sincere.

"And what will you do about it?" Revan asked coldly. "Capture me, turn me back? Seduce me like you did all those other women?"

"On _your_ orders," Atton growled. "And I wouldn't touch you, lady, if you were the last female in the galaxy. I like my balls intact, thanks."

"Like I'd let you," her voiced dripped scorn. "I don't know _what_ Dree was thinking, falling for a slimy bastard like you."

"I could say the same of Carth; I thought he had more sense," Atton shot back.

"You leave Carth out of this; he's no friend of yours. Dree is the best friend in the universe to me, I have a right to be concerned over her welfare."

"Based on what? Ten year's separation, and your attempts to kill her?" Atton snarled.

"Darth Revan tried to find and kill her, yes. I'm not her anymore," she said with poisonous patience. "There's no evidence _you've_ changed at all."

"I see no proof of your redemption either," Atton countered. "All I have is Carth and Ladria's word on that. I trust both of them, but they are…" he trailed off, unwilling to say anything negative about Ladria.

"…more naïve than us," Revan finished. She studied him coolly. "I admit you're clever; Dree doesn't let people that close."

"Wonder why?" Atton spat. "Considering that the two people she loved most turned evil, humiliating and abusing her in the process."

Revan was mutinously silent.

"You want to tell me the rape was just being friendly?" Atton asked.

Revan jerked violently at the words, going white to the lips. His voice was so calm it sent a shiver of fear down her spine. It was the same tone she used when she was beyond angry, ready to kill.

"She told you about that?" Revan asked carefully. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of looking away, but her insides were churning with shame.

"No, she didn't," Atton's face was blank, but his eyes were blazing. "I saw it. She doesn't know I did, and it was just a flash. But I recalled it just now, and it wasn't pretty. Tell me why I shouldn't kill you now for your part in that."

"I didn't…" Revan swallowed, and cursed herself for showing weakness. "I found them, and called Malak off. He spent a week in punishment for it."

"How thoughtful," Atton said coldly. "I'm sure that helped."

"She fled back to the Outer Rim that night," Revan said, finally looking away. "Came back about six months later, and started her campaign against us. She was good, very good, even Force blind. We couldn't find her."

"The rape was devastating to her, not just the violence, but because she loved Malak," Atton observed. "He was her lover, once, wasn't he?"

"They were friends, very close friends," Revan said carefully. "The three of us…we had a special bond."

"A Force bond, yes? Ladria already told me." He stared hard at Revan. "She didn't say if you had one with Malak; I don't think you did. Both of you were bound to her, but not each other."

Revan looked up at him, startled enough to let it show. "How could you know that?"

"Hang around Dria for a year, you start learning how Force bonds work," Atton said coolly. "Not to mention Kriea; that old hag was the master of manipulation."

"Kriea?" Revan's eyes were wide. "You know Kriea?"

"Knew," Atton corrected. "She's dead. Ladria killed her."

"I see," her voice was back under control. "That's something I'd like to hear about…later."

"Ask Dria," Atton said shortly. "How do you know Kriea?"

"She trained me at the Academy," Revan said shortly. "One of many Masters. I'd heard she was cast out after we left for the war."

"You're not adding to your credit with me," Atton said with a scowl.

"I'm not trying to," Revan retorted. "Your opinion of me is quite beneath my interest."

"Gee, my heart is bleeding."

"Has anyone ever told you that you're very annoying?"

"Constantly."

She had nothing to say to that, and simply stared at him. "Why does it matter if I had a bond with Malak?" she asked abruptly.

"It doesn't, to me," Atton said, shrugging indifferently. "I'm just trying to figure out the dynamics of the three of you. Dria loved both of you deeply. Watching you two fall to the dark side was torture for her, from what I saw."

"What do you mean, you _saw_? You said that earlier, too."

Atton looked at her, thinking furiously. He didn't want to give an inch, but knew that Ladria trusted this woman as much as she trusted him. Considering both their pasts, that was remarkable in and of itself. He had not personally done anything to truly hurt Dria, the way Revan and Malak had, but if they had known each other during the war…well, that wasn't a useful train of thought; he'd only been a private, no chance at all of meeting General Windbreak socially. They simply didn't have the history she shared with Revan. Finally, he nodded to himself and spoke.

"There was a moment when mental barriers simply broke down," Atton admitted grudgingly. "We saw a lot, between us. I'm unsure exactly what she got from me, for that matter."

"How like her not to mention anything damning to you," Revan noted. "She already knew your past, she'd simply dismiss it as such: past."

"Well, we've hardly had time to talk about it," Atton pointed out. "But yeah, she wouldn't bring it up without reason."

"I'm starting to think you really do care about her," Revan said softly.

"More than anything in the galaxy," he said simply, and she could hear the absolute truth of his words. "She's an incredible woman. Beautiful, caring, tough. She's stronger than you, or me," Atton's face was unguarded for a moment, his eyes soft. "She faced darkness, and turned away from it. She herself felt she had fallen, until the Council, Kriea, me, and a multitude of friends convinced her she never did."

"I know," Revan answered. "I envy her that."

"Me too. But," he said sharply, "I still don't trust you."

"Right back at you." She paused. "You must have known how close me and Dree were months ago. Why didn't you say anything before this?"

"I did, and Dria understood. I told her I'd give you a chance. But that was before you attacked me, so all bets are off now."

"So we're at an impasse," she was still suspicious, but thinking clearly now.

They were silent for a time, but much of the violent distrust had dissipated. Finally, Atton broke the stillness.

"I have an idea. I hate it, mind, but it would…settle things, I guess." He was reluctant, but Revan could feel the sincerity.

"What?"

"I let you in mentally, you let me in."

Revan looked at him, shocked he'd suggest it. "If you think I'm going to let you rummage around in my brain, you're crazier than I thought."

"I don't love the idea, lady," Atton snapped. "But unless you're willing to spend ten years around me, watching my every move, I can't think of a single better way to prove I'm not Jaq Atrand anymore to your satisfaction. Not to mention I'd like some personal assurance you're not pulling an evil Sith Lord schizophrenia on us. I also don't fancy spending a few decades pretending to Dria we're buddies, to spare her, or hurting her by her husband and best friend not being able to get along. Trust is important to her. It's important to me as well."

"Husband?!" Revan yelped. "You have a hell of a lot of nerve to assume that."

"As a matter of fact, I asked her today, and she said yes. But I don't want her to have any doubts about me when we marry. I expect you have more influence on her than me, as much as I hate to admit it, and your opinion matters to her. If you hate me, she'll always wonder."

"I doubt that," Revan admitted grudgingly. "She isn't as much led by me as you think. Even before the war, she gave every appearance of following my lead, but when it suited her, she went her own way, and nothing I could say or do would change her mind."

"If it was just me, I wouldn't let you near my head," Atton gritted his teeth. "But it's Dria I'm thinking about. Maybe you should consider that, too."

"How dare you think I don't have her welfare in mind!" Revan hissed furiously. "She's been through enough, she doesn't need someone else coming along and messing with her."

"You mean _you've _put her through enough. Put your credits where your mouth is," Atton challenged. "I'm willing; or are you afraid of what I'll see?"

"I hate this idea," Revan snarled. "And I think I hate _you_."

"You're not on my warm and fuzzy list either, sweetheart," Atton snarled back.

"I'm _not_ your sweetheart!"

"No," Atton's voice was suddenly amused. "Dria is. And you two are a lot more alike than I thought. That's exactly what she said when I met her."

"Too bad she didn't stick with it," Revan said scornfully, but her mouth was twitching. His observation sounded so like Dree, and his amusement was more engaging than she would like to admit. Plus, he had a dimple when he smiled.

_Dammit, Dree, did you _have_ to pick a charming one?_ Revan thought savagely.

Sensing an opening, he pushed the advantage. "Look, I really would, for Dria's sake, to feel like we could be friends. If letting you in my head gets us there, I'm willing. What do you say?" Atton gave her his best smile, and it was work to resist it, but Revan managed. She scowled.

"You are a manipulative bastard," she said succinctly. "Charm doesn't work on me."

"Fine," Atton threw up his hands. "Then _you_ get to explain why we're not on speaking terms."

Revan glared at him for a good minute. "You really shared that much with her?" she asked finally. "That's rare, and a mark of trust."

"She trusts me," Atton said simply. "And I her."

"Even after drugging you to run off to find me?" Revan's tone was thoughtful, not sarcastic, and Atton looked at her sharply.

"That's really none of your business," he answered, "but yeah, we've worked that out."

"All right, I agree," she looked like she'd rather eat ground glass with a cyanide chaser, but Atton was willing to take what he could get.

"I'll let you start," he said generously, and folded himself into meditation posture.

Revan briefly hesitated, then joined him on the floor. Closing her eyes, she reached out mentally, first examining the surface thoughts, which were full of suspicion toward her, but not blocking at all. She delved deeper, and many of the images were as dark as she expected; she knew his history with the Sith, after all. But…there was honor there, and repentance, and his light was bright. Then his mind touched hers, and the power he held was startling; there were very few she'd ever felt that were this strong in the Force. He wasn't forcing his way in, or trying to overwhelm her with the invasion; in fact, she could tell he was being cautious and making it as easy on her as he could manage. If this mind ever decided to really punch through, the results could be devastating.

They sat still, mentally examining each other, for several minutes. By mutual agreement, they cut the connection and opened their eyes simultaneously.

"You're either frighteningly good with mental manipulation, or I was wrong," Revan admitted quietly. "And I hate being wrong."

"Oh, come on, lady, I just let you in my head!" Atton said with exasperation. "What the hell else do you want from me?"

"You're exactly as you say you are," Revan answered, smiling at his outrage. "I apologize."

"Oh," that took the wind out of his sails, and he relaxed. "You're not so bad yourself. I suppose," he said grudgingly. "You do love her, and you're not evil."

"Neither are you. And if you ever hurt Dree, I'll kill you. Slow." She smiled gently, the mild expression making the threat that much more deadly.

"I could say the same," Atton said steadily. "And you wouldn't have to; if I ever betray her, I'd be dead anyway."

"Fair enough," Revan said with a laugh. "Hungry?"

"Starved." He looked at her as they stood, extending a hand. "Truce?"

"Friends," she corrected, and they shook on it.

"Before we call them back, can I ask something?" Atton looked at her seriously.

"I can't promise I'll answer," Revan cautioned. "If it's something Dree should tell you…"

"Probably," Atton admitted. "But I don't know how to tell her what I saw. What I want to know is, what happened, when Malak… raped her?" the words were wrenched out of him, and Revan flinched. He rushed along, as if saying it quick would make it hurt less, like yanking off a spent kolto pack that had adhered to the skin. "She explained once that the Jedi Order didn't require celibacy, just no strong emotional ties. She wasn't in love with Malak, so he was safe…before. The Force bond was based on love, yes, all hers are. But it was a bond of friendship, not a mate. I didn't understand that difference for a while. She's not the sort to simply have sex for its own sake, there has to be respect, and friendship. And he violated that. I understand he was evil, I just…wondered what…" He seemed unsure, when it came to it, exactly what it was he wanted to know.

"How it came about?" Revan asked quietly.

"Yes."

"Surely you don't think she asked for it?"

"What the hell sort of man do you think I am?" Atton exclaimed, eyes flashing. "That's not what I meant!"

"You've done it yourself," Revan said expressionlessly.

He swallowed hard. "Fair hit," he said through his clenched teeth. "I've changed. I wish I could take back everything I did, but I can't. But at least the women I…violated," he paused to get control of his emotions, "weren't anyone I…oh hell, just kill me now."

He turned away, and Revan saw his hands grip the back of a chair, white-knuckled to keep them from trembling, she suspected. His voice was low and so devoid of emotion that she could only guess at how deeply they ran. With a small shock, she realized it was the same trick she herself used whenever a memory or confession was so emotional she had to disassociate from it or go insane. It was the voice she used, she thought with cold clarity, when she spoke of her life as Darth Revan. A rush of sympathy and warmth for this stranger Dree loved ran through her, but she didn't dare express it. She was so struck with these thoughts she almost missed his next words.

"There's no excuse for anything I did. And there's none for what Malak did to Dria. It's stupid to think I can help her in any way, I'm hardly qualified," his tone wasn't self-pitying, it was matter-of-fact and faintly bitter.

She was silent long enough that he was sure the conversation was over. Then she spoke, very quietly.

"I didn't see the beginning of it," she said. "What I know was only his side. He hoped to turn her by reminding Dree of what was good between them. He was twisted, and less stable than either of us guessed. And she loved him. He used that against her. He claimed she came on to him; I didn't believe it, even then. If there was any response on her side at all, I can only assume it was in hopes of reaching him, to bring him back to the Light. Maybe she hoped that he'd see what he'd become; I don't know. That would be like her, certainly. But," she drew herself to her full height, a glint in her hazel eyes that made them flash amber for a split second. "I made him pay for what he did to her. You can be assured of that." Her tone was steely, and Atton gave her an approving nod as he turned to face her.

"I saw it, when we traded thoughts," he said, and she could feel the savage satisfaction rolling off him. "When you killed him."

"I told him then," Revan said, nodding. Her face was blank, but there was a glint in her eyes. "He died knowing I was avenging Dree." She had never told anyone that, not even Carth. She _had_ tried to save him, and bring him back to the light. But when Malak refused, a part of her was glad.

_Malak was at her feet, a hundred burning wounds laced over his body. His breathing was labored and gasping, but a mad light still shone from his eyes. They were dimming, though, starting to look confused and, finally, disbelieving._

"_This…isn't…right…" he wheezed, drawing on his hatred for a few more minutes of life. "I hold the Star Forge…I cannot be defeated…you…are…nothing…"_

"_You underestimate me, even now," Revan said calmly. She knew healing wouldn't help him now, and didn't try. "We were wrong, you know. The dark side isn't more powerful. Easier, less restricting, but not more powerful. It never was."_

"_They…stole your…reason…when they took your…identity…" Malak gasped in a weak snarl. He was too wounded to glare, but gave that impression._

"_No," Revan stooped so her old friend could see her face. "They gave me it back. Everything good and right was stolen from me when we turned. But _you_ took the best thing, the most precious. If she still lives, I'll find her. And I'll beg her to forgive me. And she will, Malak. That's the goodness you tried to kill. She will. Take this with you, to whatever hell awaits you. I kill you for mercy, and for Dree."_

The memory rose in her, and Revan faced it, half-ashamed, half-proud. She had wanted him dead, for the threat he was, and to put an end to his darkness. But also because of what he had done to Ladria. He had wanted to kill not her, but the memory of what they had been. What they all had been; what Ladria never lost.

"Why did you care, what he did? Why did you punish him?" Atton asked in a carefully neutral voice, and she her attention came back to the present. "You were dark yourself, at the time."

"Because I loved her, even then." Revan said simply.

He looked startled at that, but slowly nodded in understanding. "I see."

She looked at him carefully for a moment, then nodded back. "I think you do, yes. You know what it's like. Love doesn't die when you go to the dark side. It twists in you, makes part of you hate yourself for being vulnerable. And it burns. But if it's true, and deep enough, you'll do terrible things to keep it."

"Or you'll make who you love suffer, and hate you," Atton said softly, almost to himself.

Revan nodded. "I wasn't innocent of hurting Dree by any means. I was cruel to her, and tried to force her to join us. I didn't physically torture her, but…our bond was deep, even with her being Force blind, and I was far gone in darkness. I hated that she had a hold on me at all, and punished her for it. What little love remained in Malak he reserved for me, and Dree. He wanted her to stay, and thought in his sick way that making her want him again sexually would ensure that. To pervert her, make her like…us."

"And I thought I had been twisted," Atton said, his eyes very dark. "How she survived that sort of betrayal…I'm glad he's dead," he said savagely.

"I am too," Revan said sadly. "I'd hoped to bring him back, but…"

"He was your friend, once." Atton said soberly. "I guess I can understand that. Dria feels the same, I think. She's a better person than I am."

"She's better than all of us," Revan agreed. "She's had to be."


	12. Missions and Proposals

Carth and I chatted neutrally about safe, uncomplicated topics as we strolled arm in arm through the ship. Since neither of those words could be used to describe either Annie or Atton, we were limited on conversation topics, but in a way, it was a relief to be talking with someone whose mind didn't twist and turn quite as readily. Carth seemed to feel the same, and I genuinely enjoyed simply getting to know the Admiral better. He was intelligent, and well educated, and was an almost soothing presence. I sensed great power held in check, but it was used appropriately, I could feel. Rarely would this man do anything without thinking it through. I liked him enormously.

We gathered more than a few speculative looks from crew members as we wound our way through the corridors and seeing it, I tried to disengage from his arm. He put his hand over mine, trapping it against his forearm, and smiled.

"There will always be gossip," he said easily. "Don't let it bother you."

"I usually don't," I smiled back. "But you _are_ the commanding officer; why encourage trouble?"

"Let me worry about that," he shrugged. "I hear most of the speculation about me eventually. There hasn't been any time for me to hear the latest, but I can imagine what's being said. By tomorrow, scuttlebutt will have it I'm engaged, and bets will be taken whether it's the redhead or the brunette. Might as well give them something to talk about."

I laughed delightedly. "It's your reputation. Ruin it however you like."

On the observation deck, the stars looked close enough to touch and I spent a few awed moments staring. I don't spend much time on ships big enough to boast a room to look out into space properly. I wanted to lie down on the deck and just drink in the beauty and had to restrain myself from doing just that. My hand on Carth's arm tightened involuntarily and he patted it absently. I glanced at him and saw his face as entranced as mine.

"I don't get to spend much time up here," he said, not looking at me, but into the depths of the galaxy. "Always a million things to attend to. I miss flying."

"I know how you feel," I sympathized. He looked down at me then, and smiled wryly.

"I like my job," he said. "And I'm good at it. But there's times I just wish I was simply a pilot again."

"I felt that way too, during the war. What were they thinking, letting three teenagers lead an entire fleet? We were all so young," I said quietly. "I was only seventeen when I became a Master, and almost nineteen when the war ended. Annie was a few months older, Mak a year older. What did we know about life, and leadership?"

"You knew enough," Carth said soberly. "The three of you were brilliant leaders, age notwithstanding. And you and Rev still are."

"I suppose so," I said, shrugging. "I don't know how to stop, anymore," I smiled wryly.

"Right with you," Carth chuckled. "So, do you think they've killed each other yet?" he asked cheerfully, changing the subject.

"I can guarantee they want to," I laughed. "It's amazing how much alike they are. Moody, brilliant, stubborn, willful, not to mention manipulative."

"Makes you wonder if they're related," Carth agreed. "They even look a little alike."

"They're not," I said positively. "Revan had a family when she came to the Order, but no siblings. She eventually lost contact with her people, but even if her parents did have more children after her, Atton's a year older than me; he couldn't be her brother."

"It was an idle comment," Carth looked at me, surprised. "You considered this, haven't you?"

"It crossed my mind, when I met Atton," I admitted. "He reminded me very strongly of Revan. But the ages don't scan; Revan would remember an older brother."

"You know them both better than I do," Carth observed. "I'll take your word on it."

"Does that bother you?" I asked.

"Not at all," and I could see he meant it. "But did it occur to you that _we're_ a lot alike?"

I stared at him, mouth open. I snapped it shut. "Not really."

"Well, Miss Dree, if I may call you that, I have," Carth said, amused. "You're a lot less impulsive than Rev, and tend to be the diplomat. And you have a much slower temper."

"Fair point," I said, smiling. "Sure you're not my long lost brother?"

"Did you have one?" he teased.

"Afraid not," I shrugged. "I'm an orphan, with no siblings at all. And yes, you may call me Dree."

"I'm an only child as well," Carth said, smiling. "I wouldn't have minded a sister like you, though."

"That's a sweet thing to say," I said, charmed.

"I had cousins, and aunts and uncles," he said, gazing back up at the stars. "They died on Telos, during the war. I envied my cousins their siblings, sometimes. My cousins envied me, and would complain about this little brother or big sister. I never could understand it."

"The Order was my family," I said, picking out constellations. "I was three when Master Kavar found me in an orphanage. Revan came about six months later, but I don't really remember her not being with me."

"What was she like, as a child?" Carth asked, leading me to a chair and sitting himself, stretching his legs comfortably.

I took a casual glance around and saw that people were deliberately giving us a wide berth. Apparently, word had gone out that the Admiral required to be left alone. No one seemed hostile about it, just respectfully giving him space. I noticed that this deck doubled as an officer's lounge just as a waiter came and asked if we wanted anything.

"Hungry?" I asked Carth, and he nodded. "Might was well eat, then. I expect it will be a while before the others join us." I deliberately kept it vague who our companions would be, not wanting the gossip to roar the instant Revan's name was spoken.

I let Carth order food and wine, and when the waiter left, I addressed his question. "She was always restless," I said thoughtfully. "Full of energy and life. She learned so fast it was amazing, and was always the center of any group, even much older Padawan learners who were close to becoming full Jedi."

"And yet, you made Master first," Carth observed. "You said you were seventeen; that's young, isn't it?"

"Yes," I acknowledged. "I was the youngest to achieve that rank in over a century. Most are at least eight years older, or more."

"How did you manage that?" he asked with interest.

"I played by the rules better," I laughed. "Other than that, I don't know, really."

"Did it have anything to do with your friendship with Revan?" Carth asked wisely, and I shrugged.

"I thought it did, somewhat, yes," I said carefully. "I wasn't stronger in the Force than her, but I had better control of it, even very young. And the Masters approved of my…calming influence over Annie and Mak. I wondered if they hoped that by raising my rank, I'd have better control over them."

"Did you?" Carth quirked an eyebrow at me.

"Of course not," I laughed. "But they did study harder after that. Mak was particularly jealous of me."

"But they loved you," his voice was gentle.

"Yes." I looked at him and smiled. "They did. And I them. They were more to me than friends, they were my siblings. Partners in crime."

"I can't imagine you getting in to trouble." Carth looked amused. "Rev, sure. But not you."

"I was usually hauling her and Mak out of it," I admitted. "I rarely got caught myself, and usually got a lighter punishment when I did, mostly because I was almost always doing my best to stop whatever they were up to. They pulled some truly brilliant pranks on other students, even some of the Masters. Master Vandar never did find out who let the gizkas loose in his room while he was away on Jedi business. They bred at an alarming rate, and it took weeks to clean up the mess. And Master Vrook found one morning his office completely stripped and reassembled…in the girl's locker room. They even hung up his war mementos on the shower walls."

"Just the two of them?" Carth asked, laughing.

"Oh, they had help," I grinned. "Master Vrook wasn't that popular. At least half of the students wanted in on it. I added the open book of erotic statuary on top of his desk. For color, you see."

"Why, Miss Dree, you're a rascal!" Carth gasped through the whoops of laughter. "Who would have thought?"

"Annie was proud of me," I chuckled. "We earned hours of meditation and kitchen duty for that stunt. Worth every minute."

Our food came, and we sat back to companionably eat, chatting. About halfway through, I felt Annie and Atton reach for me, and smiled.

"They're on their way," I said to Carth. "I think they've settled their differences."

"Let's hope so," he said, grinning. "What's your bet Rev will be peeved we started dinner without them?"

"I don't take sucker bets," I said serenely.

Carth signaled the waiter, and ordered more food. A few minutes later, Atton and Annie approached, arm in arm, almost exactly the same pose Carth and I had used to leave his quarters. I stifled a laugh.

"I see you two are getting along now," I said gravely, twinkling my eyes at the pair of them.

"Yes, mother," Atton said in his best penitent voice. "Am I sill grounded?"

"Oh, I don't know, I think I might just restrict you to your room for a while," I said, grinning.

"Fine by me," his eyes lit up and I almost blushed. "Can I eat first?" He kissed me in greeting and sat, snagging a chair from a nearby empty table.

Revan had kissed Carth so thoroughly I knew the gossip mill had new speculation. She didn't bother with a chair, just sat on his lap until she was forced to move when the food arrived. Carth looked so happy I felt tears thickening my throat.

Then Annie looked at me and asked sharply, "Isn't there something you want to tell me?"

"What?" I asked in confusion, looking at Atton. He suddenly looked very interested in his glass of wine.

"Atton," I said suspiciously, "What did you tell her?"

"I might have let it slip that we're engaged," he said apologetically, but I saw his mouth trying to smile.

"Oh, that," I said in relief. "Yes, he asked me earlier."

"Fast work," Carth said admiringly. "Congratulations."

"Well, the opportunity presented itself," Atton said modestly. He leaned forward conspiratorially. "You have to get them in the right state of mind," he advised. "Then slip the question in while they're distracted."

"I see," Carth said, amused. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Which reminds me," Atton said, reaching into a vest pocket and handing me a tiny box.

I opened it, and gasped. It was a set of three rings, two very feminine, one masculine. They were beautifully wrought from fine reddish gold. The man's ring was thick banded, double curves set with two polished and faceted crystals, one silver, one deep blue; the same crystals that gave color to our lightsabers. The woman's ring echoed the design in a dainty wave, with a wedding band of alternate blue and silver crystals. They were utterly gorgeous, and I felt tears in my eyes.

Atton's nimble fingers plucked the wavy ring out of the box and took my hand. I looked into his deep brown eyes and saw the love shining in them. Without a word, he slipped onto my left hand, and kissed me to seal the bargain.

"I don't deserve you," he said, "but I'm selfish enough to want to keep you anyway. You make me whole, and I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy. Marry me?"

"Yes," I breathed back, and kissed him within an inch of his life.

"Now that," I heard Annie's voice behind me, amused, "was a proposal."

Atton grinned at her. "I get things right on occasion."

"I'm dizzy from the novelty," Revan deadpanned.

"Sour grapes," Atton said cheerfully. "We trumped you two."

"Oh, we're already engaged," Revan said airily. "Carth asked me five years ago."

Carth choked on his wine and I helpfully pounded his back until he could breathe.

"Get used to it," I said sympathetically. "She doesn't improve with time."

"I've noticed," he said dryly. "Is this where I just ask where and when, or do I get a say?" he looked at his erstwhile fiancé quizzically.

"Mission and Dustil should be there," Annie said sweetly. "But otherwise, it makes no difference to me. I'll leave the details up to you."

"Somewhere," Carth said conversationally, "I lost control of my life."

"Don't you want to marry me?" Revan asked, with a credible show of indignant ire.

"Of course I do," Carth tried to look irritated, but his mouth was working not to grin as he valiantly tried to keep up the pretense. "But I sort of imagined _I'd_ ask _you_."

"Well, you did," Revan said reasonably. "I can't help it that it was five years ago. Besides, I didn't _ask_ you, I just reminded you, that's all."

"You have a point," Carth said thoughtfully. "I had this plan, you see," he turned to me, leaning forward with an air of imparting a great secret.

"Do tell," I said, eyes lively. I chanced a glance at Annie, who had that half smile on her face that meant she was enormously pleased with herself. She snagged an appetizer off the communal plate and started munching unconcernedly, as if nothing we had to talk about was of the slightest interest. Atton looked amused all around, and squeezed my hand gently under the table.

"It was like this," Carth said, ignoring Annie completely. "I envisioned flowers, candlelight, a sunset…somewhere…hadn't worked that out yet."

"Sounds lovely," I approved. I noticed Revan had stopped eating and was listening intently.

"Possibly some dancing," Carth's eyes had gone rather gray, and the gold flecks were twinkling. "Definitely music. I'd also had in mind some privacy," he glanced around the crowded room pointedly.

"Good choice," I said, and Atton nodded.

"And there was this ring…" Carth said, but Annie interrupted.

"A ring?" she leaned forward so she could look him in the eye. "There was a ring?"

"I thought you didn't care about details," Carth said mildly.

"I lied," she said, her eyes intent.

"Well, then two out of six isn't bad," the admiral said, and took a box out of his pocket.

Annie's eyes were bright and I saw her hands shook very slightly as she opened it. Nestled in ivory velvet was a white gold ring, set with a fiery opal that blazed with green, blue, gold and pink fire. I sucked in my breath when she turned the box toward me, the lights catching the stone and flashing the colors. It was breathtaking.

"I bought it the day after you left," Carth said softly.

"This is the ring I admired, when I told you not to get me one until I got back," Annie whispered. "You kept it all this time?"

"This one was yours," he said simply.

As he slipped it on to her finger, she jumped a little. "You've been wearing it," she said, surprised.

Carth looked at her, astonished. "Until yesterday, I had it on a chain around my neck," he said, flushing a little. "How did you know?"

"It feels like you," Annie said, her eyes shining at him. "Objects that have great meaning sometimes get impressed by the owner's aura." She smiled dreamily at the ring. "It feels like I'm wearing a tiny piece of your soul."

"You already own that," Carth said, standing and pulling her toward him. He deliberately hovered above her lips, staring into her face. "Miss Annie, will you marry me?"

"Oh yes," she said, and I've never seen her face so glowing.

He kissed her then, and I swear I could hear the whole deck cheering, even though not a single person seemed to be paying overt attention besides Atton and me. When they came up for air, Revan suddenly scowled.

"You called me 'Annie'," she said accusingly.

"I like Annie," Carth said easily. "And I got the impression that only a very select people ever call you that. The people that love you most."

I cleared my throat. "Well, actually, that would be me. No one else ever has."

"Why not?" Atton asked curiously. "And don't you have a surname? I've never heard it."

Revan looked that him expressionlessly, not answering his question. Carth looked uncomfortable for a moment, and looked at Revan, touching her arm protectively. Atton looked thoughtful, watching their reactions.

"Revan _is_ your family name isn't it?" he said gently. "Did they make you drop your given name when you entered the Order?"

"I wasn't allowed to use it, no," Revan answered quietly. "My family was proud they had produced a Jedi, and wanted to take credit for it. They made the Order promise that I would only be known by my family name. I was only two, and was never called anything else again. I was three when I moved from Dantooine to Coruscant. I don't remember what my given name was anymore." She looked at me, and smiled. "When I was about five, Ladria beat up a Padawan learner that was teasing me about my name, how strange it was, especially for a girl. He was getting mean about it, and I was crying. Ladria never can just stand by when someone's hurt, and we were already friends. She got extra lessons and had to clean the common area for fighting. But he never teased me again, and was impressed by Ladria's loyalty and ability to fight. He had a black eye for weeks; the Masters wouldn't allow it to be healed through the Force. We became friends with him."

"It was Malak, wasn't it?" Carth asked softly.

"Yes," she said simply. "Later that night, in the dorms, Ladria told me not to worry about not having a name like other people, that just having _one_ name made me special. And I told her that maybe I was special, but I still wanted a first name. So she gave me one. Everyone thought that she called me Annie because of the last syllable of 'Revan', but that wasn't it. She named me Antoinette when we were little…Annie for short."

"Antoinette?" Carth looked between us, as if trying to decide if it was a joke, and Atton looked rather amused.

"I was five," I said defensively, trying not to laugh. "I thought it was a beautiful name."

"So did I," Revan said softly. "Even though no one knew it but us."

"Antoinette Revan," Carth said, smiling at her. "I like it. But I think I like Revan Onasi better."

"Me too," Annie said, and kissed him. "I never told anyone about the name Dree gave me to anyone. It was something…special, between us. When I lost Dree, I didn't want to be reminded of it," she looked at me sadly, and I smiled in reassurance.

"We're not children anymore, Annie," I said gently. "It was a silly secret, really. But it's what I've always thought of you as. And I always liked Dree, even though I told you I didn't. I only said so because you and Mak were the only ones I wanted to call me that."

"I knew that," Annie said with a chuckle. She stooped and gave me a fierce swift hug. "I agree with Atton; I don't deserve you. But I'm glad…I'm so happy we're together again."

"So am I," I kissed her cheek before she stood again.

"You never did say if it was okay for me to call you Annie," Carth said, smiling.

"You may," Annie said generously.

"How about me?" Atton asked, a wicked smile on his face.

"On one condition," she said, narrowing her eyes at him.

"And that would be…?"

"I can call you Jack," she said sweetly.

"Revan it is," Atton said shortly, with a mock scowl.

She smiled serenely at my fiancé, then turned to Carth. "You said two out of six," she asked suddenly, a puzzled look on her face.

"I don't have any flowers," Carth said regretfully. "And there's no sunset, no privacy, and only this little candle," he gestured to the artificial candle twinkling bravely in a holder in the center of our table. It looked very small, and didn't have the charm of real wax and flame, but it did the best it could. "But…there's music. May I have this dance?"

"I'm not sure I remember how," Annie said, looking a little uncertain.

"Just let me lead, and you'll be fine," Carth said, and led her out on the floor.

Atton looked at me, smiling happily. "I like your Annie," he said, taking my hand and kissing the knuckles.

"That's a bit of a change from a couple of hours ago," I observed, smiling.

"We had you in common, that was a great motivator to get along," Atton said easily. "Although it was a near thing. She's as protective of you as I am; it took a lot to decide to trust each other."

"I can understand that," I said carefully, trying not to seem as if I was judging. "You both have…difficult pasts to overcome."

"That's my Dria, the diplomat," Atton said with a wry smile. "It does amaze me that you were willing to trust me after I told you my background. I can understand Revan better; you two were close friends before she turned. But me? I'll never get that."

"I know you," I said softly. "That's all. So what did you do to make Annie trust you?"

"Um," Atton looked away, his blank face back on.

I looked at him with concern. "What?"

"We sort of…let each other in mentally."

"That was smart," I said approvingly, and he relaxed. "How did you get Annie to agree?"

"I told her that it would be up to her to explain why we weren't on speaking terms," Atton said smugly. "You're her weakness. And Carth."

"You two are frighteningly alike," I commented.

"I've noticed," Atton said dryly. He smiled suddenly. "Why are we sitting here, when there's a dance floor? Care to dance, my Lady?"

"I'd love to," and we joined Annie and Carth on the floor.

Not surprisingly, Atton was a very good dancer. I couldn't remember the last time I had, even though I love it. I saw Carth and Annie dancing not too far from us, so completely wrapped up in each other I doubted they noticed the crowd around them. I smiled at their happiness, and Atton followed my gaze.

"They look good together," he commented, and I looked back at my handsome fiancé.

"Yes," I said, but my eyes were for him. He smiled at me, his real one, the one that lights his face and makes him look very young. I wondered about the man, barely out of his teens, that Carth had described as crazy Jack Rand. He must have smiled like this often.

The music changed, and Atton swept me into a waltz. I followed easily, letting his strong lead glide us around the floor, as if on hidden anti-grav units. I loved the intimacy of the waltz, and for the song, neither of us were aware of anything but each other and the movements of our bodies.

The tune ended, and Atton bowed, kissing my hand in the traditional way of the dance. His tongue flicked my knuckles as he did, his eyes teasing me, and I tingled. Before I had time to recover, another song started, and suddenly I was dancing with Carth, Atton having stepped away and claiming Annie by the admiral's invitation.

He was almost as good as Atton, and for a little while, we simply danced, enjoying the steps and the camaraderie. Carth was a pleasant, solid man, and I was glad we were becoming friends.

"I had a suggestion," he broke into the silence. "About several things, in fact."

"And you haven't said anything to Annie yet," I guessed.

"Some of it, yes; but she said to leave things up to me, and I take her at her word," Carth smiled and shrugged, led me through a turn, then turned his attention back to me. "Would you mind a double wedding?"

"Not at all," I answered, as I concentrated on a tricky step that ended with my back to him, arms folded at my waist, taking four steps backward. Carth felt very tall behind me, and his movements were graceful and strong. He guided me in a twirl that faced him, lifted me by my waist, and twirled us both clockwise, setting me down gently and shifting to grasp me by hand and waist again. I caught a glimpse of Atton and Annie completing this maneuver. They were laughing, and I smiled.

"I'll probably ask her again," Carth said thoughtfully, smiling. "The whole romantic thing; she does love that, even trumping me today. But I thought that it might be good to get married with the Order present. That was the bargain, you know."

We paused for another twirl and backwards steps, twirl and lift, and when we were facing each other, I looked at him, puzzled.

"What bargain?"

"The Council agreed to let us marry once Rev completed her last mission," Carth said. A shadow flitted across his eyes, making them steel gray for a moment. Then he smiled. "I'm sorry, I forgot you wouldn't know about that. The point is moot now, of course. But I think she'd feel there was closure, I guess, if we were married among the Jedi. And unless you and Atton want to wait a while, she would like to share that with you."

"I wouldn't miss it for anything," I said gently. "And I think a double wedding is a wonderful idea. I'm not one for a lot of fuss, honestly, and unless Atton has other ideas…" I paused, wondering if my fiancé, who is deeply romantic, even though he'd deny it, might have plans for a huge celebration. I doubted it, more likely he'd plan it because he wanted it for me.

"Annie's asking him now," Carth said softly. "That part was her suggestion, actually."

"Then we might as well sit back and let them do all the organizing," I laughed. "I can't tell you what a relief that is to me."

"Me too," Carth grinned. "If it were up to me, we'd just seek out the nearest justice of the peace and have done. I'll admit I'm a little nervous about having a Jedi marry us."

"Who did you have in mind?" I asked, diverted.

"Probably Master Stefan," Carth said. "He's…less formal, I guess, than most. Jolee can't; he's not officially a member of the Order, so he can't legally wed anyone. And, he's still technically a Padawan; I understand Masters are the only ones allowed to perform civil unions."

"Either Jolee or Stefan would be perfect," I approved. "And I'll have to do something about Jolee's status; he ought to be a Master, and reinstated officially in the Order. Why haven't they done that yet? I'm surprised that Stefan hasn't."

"He tried; Jolee refused to be made official on either count until either you or Revan returned." Carth said with a twinkle in his eye. "Said he respected the Order as it stood, but he'd be damned if he came back without the proper leaders in place. It's been largely due to his influence that the Order hasn't progressed beyond the brainstorming stage since your absence."

"I see," I said slowly. "What about Ju'hani?" I hadn't met her yet, but I knew both Carth and Revan were friends with her, and Jolee was close to the Cathar woman.

"She's of the same opinion," Carth shrugged, in as much as the dance would allow. We paused again for the twirl and lift.

"I'm thinking that we need to have a council meeting soon," I said as we resumed our steps. "And I'd like to encourage Jennet to join, too."

"That was one of the other things I wanted to speak to you about," Carth said seriously. "Rev and I have discussed getting off the Eternity, and I know the next meeting is set for a week from now, on Coruscant. Jennet could travel easily enough, but I doubt Canderous would want her to go alone so close to her due date, and he's needed on Dxun."

"We could have the meeting there," I said readily, sensing where this was going. "At least a quarter of the Order are there, anyway. And it would be wonderful to see how the camp is progressing. I expect you have much to discuss with Canderous and Jennet as well, before they join the Republic," I concluded shrewdly.

"There is that," Carth said, nodding.

"When would you like to leave?" I asked, but was interrupted by another turn, lift and twirl.

"Probably the day after tomorrow," Carth said as we resumed dancing face to face. I'd forgotten how long this particular dance was. "I commed Dustil and Mission a couple of hours before Rev invited you two for dinner; they're on their way. Mission mentioned that she has some time between jobs, a couple of weeks, at least. And Dustil can take leave; for once he allowed his dad to pull rank," Carth grinned, looking mischievous. "I had to, you understand. Otherwise, he'd be up on AWOL charges; nothing would keep him away."

"Can't have that," I grinned back as the dance ended. Atton and Annie appeared at our sides, and we went back to our table.

"Is a double wedding okay with you?" Atton asked me as we seated ourselves. He looked mildly worried, but I smiled in reassurance.

"It's a lovely idea," I answered warmly.

He smiled and kissed me. Revan and Carth hadn't seated themselves yet, and smiled down at us. Annie started to speak, but suddenly, there was a blur of blue and flying Lekku, and she was tackled by a small woman in casual pants and tunic, babbling greetings.

"You're home! Oh gods, I was worried about you; but you're here, and safe, and I've missed you so much!" she was talking fast, and Annie automatically clung to her, hugging the Twi'lik woman in a fierce grip.

"Mission," Annie rasped, looking close to crying.


	13. Darkness and Light

Author's note: I'm sorry it took longer to get this chapter out than usual. Partly the holiday, but also...it was pretty hard to write. I'm giving fair warning that we're diving a little darker than usual.

Please review, if you so feel inclined.

Always, LJ

* * *

I quickly took stock of the situation, seeing the open stares and Annie's emotional state. The respectful disinterest earlier from the crew was breaking down rapidly. There was a good chance of people putting two and two together and guessing who Revan was. That wasn't a problem, in the long run, but for now, privacy seemed best.

"Mission," I said gently but firmly, "It's so lovely to see you again. Why don't we resume our reunion someplace less…crowded?" I smiled warmly at her, and she looked over her shoulder to meet my eyes, still clinging to Annie.

"Good idea," Atton joined in, standing and extending a hand to Mission. She took it, blinking, and I saw Annie getting a hold of herself. Only someone looking for it would notice the faint trembling.

"Hey, Atton," Mission smiled, catching on and having the grace to look faintly abashed. "Good to see you. You still mad at Ladria?"

"No, Miss Nosy," Atton grinned, and kissed her cheek, as did I.

Getting into the spirit of our obvious intent to dispel as much gossip as possible, Mission turned to Carth, giving him a warm hug and daughterly kiss on the cheek. "Hi, Dad," she said, grinning at him. "I got on the first transport I could find; turned out they left only a half hour after you commed. Luckily, I was already packed to head to Telos, so I just jumped on."

Carth kissed her forehead in greeting and put an arm around Annie, who was now smiling so hugely I was afraid she'd split her face. "Hi, kiddo," he said, carefully cheerful. "Why don't we go to my quarters for a drink?"

"Sure," Mission said, grinning at Annie.

I could tell that Rev was too overwhelmed to speak, and hid a smile myself. It takes a lot for her to lose it like this, and when I had met Mission during Canderous and Jennet's wedding celebration, I saw immediately that the young Twi'lik would likely mean the world to Revan. Getting to know Carth somewhat during the two weeks they had stayed on Dxun had confirmed that.

While we had been chatting, Atton and I had been subtly leading our little group toward the door, Mission pausing to pick up her bag that she had dropped near the entrance. Talking about absolutely nothing, but keeping appearances as a casual group of friends, we made our way to Carth's quarters. Once inside, Mission hugged Annie again, bursting into tears. I was less surprised when Annie joined in that I might have been. She seemed to be much less inclined to care if people saw her get emotional than in the past. But then, she never had a family before, aside from me and Malak.

Atton and I exchanged looks and edged toward the door. It seemed intrusive to be witnessing the family reunion. Annie stopped us in our tracks with a muffled, "Don't you dare leave," delivered as fiercely as could be managed through Mission's shoulder.

We halted our progress, exchanged looks again, and glanced at Carth as one. He smiled and offered drinks, obviously not in the least feeling we were intruding on anything. Shrugging, Atton and I accepted glasses of wine and sat together on the couch, holding hands.

"Let me look at you," Revan said at last, when Mission finally loosened her grip. She set the Twi'lik away from her and sniffed again. Carth silently handed his fiancé and daughter tissues, and they flashed him grateful smiles. "You're all grown up," Annie said approvingly, and her voice cracked a little. She hastily blew her nose and tried to reign in her tears. "You're beautiful. And you're marrying Dustil soon?"

"Yes," Mission beamed at her. "You don't look a bit different," she said wonderingly.

"I feel different," Annie said, finally managing to stop crying. "Not a lot, but…"

"Yeah," the younger girl said with a knowing nod. "It's been five years, after all. And I'll bet you were mostly doing things you'd rather forget."

"Exactly," Annie said, smiling sadly. "When did you get so wise?"

"I always was," Mission said impishly. "You just didn't notice it when I was fifteen."

"How shortsighted of me," Annie said gravely, and they both dissolved into giggles.

Atton looked at me, disbelief in every line of his face. "Revan _giggles_?" he asked in wonder.

"On occasion," I laughed, and Carth snorted.

Annie and Mission were talking nonstop, catching up on Mission's life, and a little of what Annie herself had been doing. After a time, Carth, Atton and I were drawn in to the conversation, and we all talked well into the night. Eventually, Annie was up to date with almost everything that had happened.

"I wish Dustil was here," she said reflectively. "It's so much to catch up on."

"He's on his way," Carth assured her. "And he won't mind not being in on the initial catch-up. He just wants to see you."

"I commed him while I was enroute," Mission said brightly. "He should be here early tomorrow…well, today, I guess. He'll be thrilled you and Dad are finally getting married," she added with a happy smile. She had exclaimed over both Annie's and my rings, approving the idea of a double ceremony, as long as she got to participate.

"It's late," I said, standing and smiling around. "If Dustil will be here early, you all should get some sleep. And I'm tired," I added with a convincing yawn.

"Will put me in guest quarters," Mission said to Carth. "I'll see you in the morning."

She kissed both Annie and Carth goodnight, and followed us out the door. Atton looked at her shrewdly as we headed down the corridor.

"Do you really have guest quarters?" he asked, and she smiled cheerfully.

"Nope," she admitted.

"What were you planning on doing?" he asked, amused.

"There's always room in the dorms," Mission said, shrugging. "But I'm not about to crimp Dad's style by having his grown daughter underfoot only two days after Revan's home."

"Take our room," I said with a chuckle. "We can sleep on the Sphinx."

"Really?" she beamed at me. "You're sure?"

"Of course," I said generously. "It's no trouble. And Dustil can join you there."

"Don't mention that to Dad," Mission cautioned anxiously.

"Not a word from me," I promised, eyes twinkling.

"He knows, I'm sure," the young Twi'lik said seriously. "But he doesn't really want to know. You see?"

"I didn't want to know either," Atton grumbled, and I elbowed him.

"Don't worry about it," I said firmly. "We'll be fine on the Sphinx, and you can have time with Dustil, as well as Annie."

"I like that you call her that," Mission said shyly. "Do you think she'll let me?"

"I'm sure she will," I said gently. "She loves you more than me, after all."

"I don't know about that," Mission said seriously.

"As much, then," I said, laughing. "That I can promise."

We stopped by what was now Mission's room, hastily gathering my things and retrieving Atton's bag. Mission was yawning in earnest now, and gratefully accepted our goodnights as we headed out the door. I knew I should be tired, but was far from it, and Atton seemed about the same.

Arriving at the landing bay, we boarded the Sphinx and stowed our luggage. I had just hung up our robes when Atton stole up behind me quiet as a cat, grabbed me around the waist, and spun me dexterously around, trapping me against the closet door. With a swift move, he captured both my wrists and held them above our heads, using his weight to pin me.

"I like our friends," he breathed over my face, mouth hovering just above mine, "but I've been wanting to get you alone for hours."

"It's late," I murmured, gasping as he began nibbling under my jaw line.

"I don't have anything on my calendar tomorrow," I felt his smile against my throat, followed by his tongue teasing the sensitive spot just behind my ear. "Do you?"

"Not a thing," I agreed, moaning softly as his mouth placed tiny nibbling kisses from ear to shoulder. I tested his hands, still gripping my wrists above my head, but they refused to budge. "Let me go," I said breathlessly.

"Soon," he teased, then dipped his head to nudge aside the neckline of my – his – tunic. He blew softly on the exposed skin of my collarbone, and I shivered. I tried to break free of his grasp, but he was much stronger than me, and suddenly his weight was intolerable and I was struggling in earnest.

"Let me _go_," I said, and was horrified that my voice was thin and panicky.

Atton's head snapped up, and his eyes went wide. He let go of my hands, and carefully stepped away. I was breathing hard, and trembling uncontrollably. I wrapped my arms around my waist, gripping my elbows, and forced myself to stay upright. My knees wanted to give out, and I refused to let them.

"Dria?" Atton asked uncertainly. "You know I wouldn't…"

"I know," I said abruptly, trying to get a hold of myself, not looking at him.

He stepped closer, tentatively touching my arm, and my trembling stopped, just like that. I looked up, and his face was full of concern and troubled understanding. I stepped closer, and his arms went around me, undemanding and safe. I buried my face in his chest and breathed his scent. In a moment, I felt better, and raised my eyes to look at him.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"You don't have any reason to apologize," Atton said softly. "_I'm_ the one who's sorry."

"For what?" I asked, genuinely surprised.

"Putting you in a position of helplessness," his voice was low and almost anguished, leaning his forehead against mine. "I didn't think…I just wanted you, and…"

"How could you know I'd react like that?" I asked reasonably. I was fine now, the momentary panic gone. "I didn't know it myself."

And then it hit me, and I stiffened. Atton let go of me and backed away, letting me move from the closet door, and I sat on the bed, my thoughts churning unpleasantly. Atton took the chair from the computer station and sat on it backwards, folding his arms over the top. His face was wary and troubled, and he waited for me to speak.

"You knew, before I panicked," I said, reaching for and finding that cloak of calm I rely on. "How? Did Annie tell you?"

"No," Atton said carefully. "But I asked her about it. I saw it last night, when…" he stopped abruptly, not wanting to make things worse.

"When we shared thoughts during sex," I supplied.

He flinched, but nodded. "I didn't try to get in your head," he said apologetically. "It just happened, to both of us. And I didn't process a lot of it. But when Revan was confronting me – well, we were confronting each other, I guess – the memory came forward, and I wanted to kill her for her part in your…for what Malak did to you."

"She didn't have anything to do with it," I said sharply.

"I realize that now," Atton agreed. "Even then, she was sorry, and would have killed Malak rather than let him touch you. But when I saw it…I went a little crazy, and I didn't trust that she didn't…encourage him…maybe even set it up."

"And she probably accused you of getting excited by it," I said, feeling strangely detached. "Considering your past."

"More or less, yeah," Atton said expressionlessly. "We've come to an understanding, though. I know now why you trust her so completely. She's a part of you, and always has been."

"Yes," I said simply. "And you are too. My reaction…it has nothing to do with you."

"I'm not so sure about that," Atton said, but there was no bitterness or accusation in his tone. "We both know how I was, what I did. I'd seduce women, make them want me, twist them to become as dark as I was…or kill them, if they couldn't be turned. It was never about the sex, or passion, or love. It was about power. Any way you cut it, it's still rape."

"That's not who you are anymore," I said, looking him in the eye. "And that's not what made me panic."

"It's part of it," he said quietly. "You know I've done it, too. You might really believe I'd never hurt you, but…"

"But nothing," I said fiercely. "If you want the honest truth, I've had exactly three lovers in thirty four years. You're number three. Anything that happened before you isn't your fault."

"Bao Dur doesn't have my past, and would never hurt you, or put you in a helpless position," Atton said softly. "At least, I don't think so."

"He didn't," I acknowledged.

It felt very strange, talking about my past sex life with my fiancé so clinically. It was the first time we'd ever discussed openly what had happened between Bao Dur and me during our mission. The Iridonian is one of the truest friends I have, and he loves me deeply, as I do him. We had spent six days together as lovers, a time I cherish as the most loving and unselfish acts ever done for me. He had offered solace, and a love between true friends, at a time I needed it most. Knowing that I couldn't bring myself to break my Jedi vows and turn to Atton, Bao Dur had stepped in and comforted me. He hadn't even known at the time that celibacy wasn't a Jedi requirement; he simply knew that my feelings for Atton, and his for me, were something that ran much deeper than friendship, and that if we started down that path, neither of us could, or would, stop. This would jeopardize my place in the Order, nullify Atton's as my Padawan, and likely destroy my still fragile self worth. Knowing this, Bao Dur had secured Atton's understanding of the situation before approaching me.

As strange as it seems, the ultimate result was an even deeper friendship between the three of us. Bao Dur had given me the strength and hope I desperately needed, without guilt. Atton had gained the patience to wait until we could be together without remorse, and a true understanding of trust. Bao Dur…well, he never outright said what he'd gained, except the devotion of myself and the man he had come to regard as a brother. He hadn't offered to say, even when I had asked, and I respected his silence.

These thoughts flitted through my head as Atton silently waited for me to speak again. Truthfully, I had no idea what to say. He seemed bent on holding himself responsible for the situation and I was stumped on how to talk him out of it.

"Do you want to know what it was like with Bao Dur?" I heard myself ask, and wished I hadn't. It was the first random thought that popped into my head, and wasn't really the point, anyway.

"Only to the extent that I hope it was good, and he treated you well," Atton said, surprisingly unsurprised at the question. "Which I pretty much figured already." He paused, and asked quietly, "Does he know about the rape?"

"No," I shook my head, looking Atton in the eye.

"I see," Atton said thoughtfully.

"Could you please tell me what you're thinking?" I asked, suddenly desperately needing to know.

He looked at me for a long moment, his blank face firmly in place. But I could tell, somehow, it was there not to hide, but to spare me confusion and possibly more pain as he gathered his thoughts. He was as rattled as I was, and wanted to protect me. It was a small kindness, and put a little heart back in me.

When he finally spoke, it was not exactly what I had expected. "I told Revan that it was stupid to think that I could help you in any way," Atton said carefully. "I'm not qualified. And I hate that anything I could do would frighten you. But I can understand it. Have you ever told anyone what happened, ever?"

"Once," I said, very softly. "I killed a man who was raping a young woman, when I was in the Unknown Regions. She was nearly catatonic, and I got her away, helped patch her up and hid her until I could find her people. When she got over the initial shock, she realized that it wouldn't have stopped there, he would have killed her, and was grateful to be alive. I told her I understood, gave her the short version of what happened to me. And I did…in a way."

"But that's not what really happened to you," Atton said quietly. "Malak didn't want to kill you."

"No," I answered low. "He wanted to own me. He wanted my soul. And gods help me, I almost gave it to him."

"What do you mean?"

"He called me to his room, and was so like the Mak I knew I dropped my guard. He was charming, and sweet, and told me he had a plan to go back to the Outer Rim, face the Council together. That he had agreed with me all along, but was afraid of what Revan would do if he said so. He said that he wanted to go back, take his punishment, and that when the Order cast us out, we at least had each other. And then we would come back, and try to convince Revan to come back to the Light."

"And you believed him," Atton said, nodding soberly. "Why wouldn't you? You were Force blind, frightened, terrified for your friends and what they were becoming. And he knew it."

"Yes," I said, my voice shaking. "When he kissed me, he was so gentle, and telling me how much he loved me, how sorry he was that he had scared me, and that he wanted to help me regain the Force."

"What happened then?"

"I asked him to go to Revan now, to confront her, capture her if necessary, and try to save her too. That the two of us could do it; she loved us more than anyone in the galaxy, she'd listen if we did it together. And he laughed." I shuddered, and Atton came over to the bed at last, and put his arms around me. I clung to him, shaking like I was coming apart at the seams.

"Not right away; he pretended to consider it, but protested that she was too far gone, and wouldn't listen. All the time, he was holding me, and telling me he loved me, that what he felt had changed from friendship, that he never wanted to be apart from me." I was talking fast, the words tumbling from my lips in a torrent of pain and memory. "When I held him off and insisted we should talk to Revan, he got angry, and told me I was a fool. I thought at first he was being protective, and then…then he hit me, and I was so surprised I didn't even cry out. I just stared at him, and he slammed me up against the wall…pinned me there…like…l-like.."

"Like I did," Atton whispered, and I nodded wordlessly against his chest.

"That was when I knew he was lost, for good," I said in a choked whisper. "And when I came close to deciding that I might as well join him, what was I, anyway? A broken Jedi, who disobeyed the council and blew up a planet. What had he done that compared to that?" I said bitterly. "I had actually opened my mouth to tell him he'd won, when he kissed me silent, and…"

"What, Dria? Tell me."

"He backed off…and was nice again, and apologized," I said tonelessly. "Why are you asking? Didn't you see it all?"

"Most of it," Atton said, his arms tightening around me. "But you need to say it."

"Why?" I asked, suddenly angry. "What would it change?"

"Because you need to know that you couldn't stop him."

"I didn't stop him, because I was afraid," I spat, suddenly furious. "I _let_ him violate me, violate that part of us that…" I stopped, angry and confused and wanting to hit something, anything to make the memory go away.

"The part you that still trusted him," Atton said calmly. "You didn't want to let go of that, because then you would have to admit you couldn't help him. And you couldn't, Dria. He didn't want to be helped, he wanted you to be like him."

"I had training, I was Jedi; I could have fought him off," I said fiercely, shaking my head in denial.

"You were crippled, and close to broken, and he took advantage of you. He sweet talked you again, got you to stop being afraid of him, and then brutalized you, didn't he?" Atton's voice was cool, almost clinical, and somehow calmed me.

"Yes." I hung my head and wouldn't look at him.

"Don't you do that," and his voice was suddenly fierce. His hands were cupping my face, making me look at him, and his eyes were almost blazing. "Don't you be ashamed. There was nothing you could do."

"I wish I could believe that," I said sadly.

"I have an idea. Do you trust me?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Then I hope you forgive me if this goes bad."

And his mind slammed into mine.

I'd always known the power he had, but he had never tried to break through my mind; even the dream sharing couldn't possibly prepare me. I was less open than I might have been, still tense and somewhat defensive, layering my habitual calm over the raw memories. He blew through that like wet tissue, delving straight into the deepest layer of my mind. My head started to swim, and suddenly I was swept into a vortex, spinning out of control. I might have screamed; all I knew was I was lost.

When the universe righted itself, I was standing in Malak's quarters, fourteen years ago. I wanted to look around wildly, confused and apprehensive, but I couldn't; I was trapped in the motions of the past. Malak was speaking to me, earnest and charming and sincere, and I was answering. I could feel all over again my hope that what I feared was wrong; he wasn't falling to the dark side, he was pretending, fearing Revan's wrath. I went to him, holding out my hands, and he clung to me, talking fast. He drew me in, putting his arms around me, and actually cried; I comforted him.

The conversation didn't matter; I was barely listening. I was experiencing that day again, but watching it as well, as if my brain was split in half. But something was different; I wasn't alone. Atton was there, beside me, watching too.

"Is this a dream?" I asked, but no sound invaded the past; I was still holding Malak, continuing to offer comfort and support.

"No," Atton answered. "It's a memory. I brought you here, because I need you to see."

"See what?"

"That you couldn't have stopped him. He played you, Dria, he used your compassion and love for him to brutalize you, body and mind. The only way you could have known is if you were as twisted as he was."

"But…I know that. I should have been able to fight back, when I realized." I was watching, partly in fascination, partly in sheer horror, as Malak hit me and slammed me against the wall. But strangely, with Atton beside me, I wasn't afraid.

I shivered mentally, and we watched the rest of the memory, Revan bursting in on us, her throwing Malak across the room, me broken and shattered, sobbing on the bed, trying to cover myself. Revan using the Force to slam lightning into Malak's body, over and over until he lost consciousness, his voice a raspy croak from screaming. I was curled in a ball, hands over my ears, wanting to pass out myself but not being able to. Revan turned to me, eyes almost black.

"Get dressed, and get out. He won't touch you again," she said coldly, and turned on her heel, calling to guards to take Malak.

I didn't need to see the rest in detail, and the memory whirled by us, how I had hid under the bedclothes until they hauled Malak away, then dressed in clothes I took from his closet; much too big, but belted I managed. My boots were fine. I had made my way to my room, showered and changed, used kolto packs to heal myself, and waited. When I was certain most of the ship was asleep, I quietly made my way to the docking bays, stole a small long-range scout, and fled back to known space. Watching Revan punish Malak, I had known then both my dearest friends were lost. I left before they could take me with them.

"Do you understand now?" Atton asked, and I wanted so badly to say yes. But I couldn't, and felt his sorrow. "I didn't want to have to show you this. I'm sorry."

And then the scene changed; I saw Atton with a woman, a Jedi, and then I was in _his_ mind, hearing his thoughts as he charmed her. Over and over I was shown different women, different situations, but the same result: seduction, betrayal, violence.

"I hunted Jedi all over the galaxy," Atton's voice was so emotionless it was almost robotic. "I'd gain their trust, capture them, use them, twist them. I was good at it, especially women. I knew them; even then I liked their differences, their smell, their power. I wanted them to want me, even after they knew the truth of what I was. And all of them were trained warriors, full Jedi, most at least Master level. It was challenging, yes, but when you have their trust, it's easier than you'd think. When you get them close enough, they can't escape."

As I watched, I felt all his emotions, satisfaction, exaltation…and rage. The rage was there, always, under the surface, even as he smiled and spoke softly and charmed. It was so entirely present and savage I was amazed the women he seduced never suspected; but he could hide it as easily as breathing until it suited his purpose to let it show.

And then, it was _my_ rage, my pain and self loathing for what had happened, what I knew now I couldn't have changed. The fury of pain and betrayal and broken dreams; the shattering of the bond I shared with Malak, the cold relief and pleasure knowing he was dead. That was what I had never allowed myself to acknowledge; some part of me had been sorry I hadn't found him and killed him myself. Angry with myself that I hadn't had the courage to go back and do just that. I had fled, and let him do it again, to someone else. But I couldn't have; Revan wouldn't have let me get close enough to try. I had been Force dead, my fighting skills crippled.

So I left, and found a way to fight back. I taught myself to fight again, in some ways better than before, without the Force. Malak and Revan had started the war; I continued it with every weapon I had, every tactic I'd learned, and my knowledge of them. Ten years I had fought mostly alone, hiding from them, hitting them and hurting them when I could. And the whole time, I'd buried my real reason for it. I wanted to atone for my own part in Malachor V, and the war; but I wanted to punish them for what they had done to me, what they had become.

What I had come so close to becoming myself.

"Enough." I finally found my voice.

I almost fell when I snapped back to the present, but Atton caught me. I was trembling all over. Remnants of sharing minds still hung between us, and I could feel his hesitancy; wanting to hold me, comfort me, but afraid I'd flinch away. I looked at him, and took his hand. Then tension in him eased some.

"I'm so sorry," he said, low and anxious. "I never wanted you to really see that. But I couldn't think of any other way to convince you."

I stared at him a long time, my thoughts tumbling dizzily. The rage and self loathing were gone, replaced by something I couldn't name right away. Finally, I spoke.

"I couldn't have stopped it, could I?"

"No," Atton said simply.

"I didn't really deal with it, I just hid it, ignored it, never let anyone that close again," I said quietly. "Until you."

Atton didn't say anything, just looked at me with such love and hope and fear that my heart felt tight.

"Please don't look like that," I whispered. "One pain at a time, okay?"

"Okay," he said with a shadow of a smile.

"That's not you anymore," I said. "And it isn't me, either." The truth of that hung in the air, and I saw something torn and bleeding start to heal in Atton's eyes. Cautiously, I tested the wound I'd carried so long, and found it, if not healed, at least not poisoned anymore. It would still scar, but the part that would infect me was gone.

"They left me," I said, and the tears at last started to come. "I couldn't help them, and they left me. I ran, but they left me first. I couldn't stop him, I…he…I wanted him dead, and I wanted to die, but they wouldn't even let me do that, and I couldn't…c-couldn't…"

I wasn't making any sense anymore, but it didn't matter. Atton held me, and I cried for everything I'd lost then, for Malak, who I couldn't save, for Annie, who had been violated in order to save her, and for me. That lost and broken woman who fought anyway, even when I wasn't sure why. And I cried for Atton, who had become what he once hated, and learned to love again, to be true Jedi. The courage and pain it cost him to turn away from rage, and channel that into something good and right. I felt his tears mingle with mine, and we found our way to a place of peace.

Not long after, Annie found us, shaken and tearstained, but whole.

"I heard you," she said, pausing uncertainly on the threshold of the cabin. I didn't bother to wonder how she'd gotten in. "I woke up and felt Dree crying."

Atton made to get up off the bed, but I clung to him and he stayed. Annie nodded at him, not smiling, but wishing him to stay. I was rather surprised at that. Atton seemed to understand that this was a measure of the respect and trust she was beginning to have for him, and nodded back.

"I'm all right," I sniffed hard, and wiped my face with the tail of Atton's tunic. "Where's Carth?"

"I told him to stay and sleep," Annie said, coming over to me. "I had a dream…but it wasn't, was it?"

"No," I said, understanding immediately. I had lost control, and projected the vision to Annie…or had I? I looked at Atton, who had hastily mopped his own face.

"You didn't lose control," he answered my thought. "She needed to see it too."

"Dree," Annie said quietly, "I haven't had a chance to…I should have earlier. Said something, I mean. I…when I…" she swallowed, and visibly got control of herself. "When I killed Malak, I told him I'd seek you out and beg your forgiveness. I don't deserve it, I know. But I'm sorry."

"You did that already," I said with a shaky laugh. "When you found me. Not your fault I didn't remember it until now."

"Well, I wasn't sure you did remember. Kriea was very good at mind manipulation. And when I woke, and felt your pain…" she was seated next to me now, and reached for my hand as I reached for hers.

They each had an arm around me, and I had their hands, and everything was all right. I sat between the two people I loved best. I was free now.


	14. Family Reunion

Author's note: This is the longest chapter yet; I hope everyone enjoys it. I want to give fair warning that I will have family visiting in the next week, coupled with busier hours at work; for the next three weeks, updates will be much slower. I apologize in advance for the delays, but I'll write whenever I can slip in an hour or two. The Jedi Council meeting will be the next chapter; hopefully I'll get that written and posted before my time is no longer my own. Meanwhile, hang in there, and thanks for taking the time to read my story. Please review; I thrive on feedback, and the Muse loves the attention.

Always, LJ

* * *

Two days later, we arrived on Dxun. Dustil had boarded the Eternity right on schedule the day before, and had a most satisfactory reunion with his now complete family. Once he ascertained the extent of Annie's and my friendship, he promptly started calling me "Aunt Dree", which Mission delightedly echoed. I was flattered and overwhelmed with the happy knowledge that I was truly part of a family now. "Uncle Atton" grumbled about his new moniker (in light of our engagement, Mission insisted on dubbing him too), saying it made him feel about a hundred years old. But he was pleased, and Annie simply smiled over her children's antics.

For her children they were; despite the age discrepancy, being only fourteen years older than Mission, and twelve older than Dustil, she couldn't love them more than if she had indeed given birth to them. Carth sat back and watched his family, completely changed from the quiet, rather sad man I had met for the first time last year. He fairly glowed with happiness, and I was charmed and happy to see it.

We had chosen to fly both the Sphinx and the Ebon Hawk to Dxun, with the Onasi family piloting the Hawk. Annie had given her report to the Republic the day Atton had arrived, and I had commed Bao Dur to make arrangements for the Jedi council meeting to take place on Dxun, with Canderous' permission, of course. He was quite happy to play host, unconcerned that the last time a substantial group of Jedi met there, his camp had nearly been attacked by a Sith warship.

"The likelihood of that happening again is virtually nil," he'd said gruffly, shrugging away my concern. "And Bastila's dead. Unless you're worried about yet another Jedi betraying the Order, I think we're safe enough. Though they'd get a surprise if they attacked us now," he added with relish.

The camp had grown from roughly a hundred warriors to nearly 8,000 strong in the last six months, with more arriving almost daily. Bao Dur had been working day and night with the engineers developing the moon, and it was nearly complete, the community having grown now to the size of a small city. About half the living quarters and accompanying streets, workshops, landing docks, and miscellaneous buildings were empty, awaiting the next wave of refugees, who numbered in the thousands. There were plans on standby to expand even further. The original estimate of about 15,000 Mandoa survivors had jumped to twice that during the wedding of the Mandalore and his Mate, and the Republic had stepped in readily to help establish all of them. The Republic were supplying building materials and workers, the Mandoa themselves were contributing to their community to provide food, defense, and medical supplies.

I learned most of this on the abbreviated tour Canderous and Jennet had given Atton and me upon our arrival. Rather than have us dock at a public landing area, he had insisted we park in one of his personal hangars, on the Mandalore's estate. Atton, of course, had seen most of the building himself, but I was amazed at the change. Dxun was a real city now, sprawling into the jungle surrounding it. The original camp had been updated and expanded considerably, serving as the military command center, and soldiers were everywhere, trotting back and forth to various duties.

Jennet, who had greeted me with squealing enthusiasm, beamed at my compliments. It had been her brainstorm to keep the original camp at the center of the community, and Canderous had loved the idea. This section had changed very little, really. The ground had been paved, and the buildings cleaned up and repaired so expertly they looked new. All the computer equipment had been upgraded and communications were excellent, as well, of course, as armament. The camp had more than tripled in size, but the overall feel was still the small outpost in the middle of a treacherous jungle.

Jennet was blooming with her almost eight month pregnancy, and looked even more beautiful than usual. Her caramel colored hair had grown nearly to her shoulder blades, tied back carelessly in a loose ponytail at the nape of her neck. The wayward curls she cursed regularly were escaping their holder, and she continually blew one out of her eyes as we slowly walked around the camp.

"A jungle," she said ruefully, impatiently shoving the lock out of her face, "Canderous _had_ to pick the worst climate in the universe to live in. My hair hates this place."

"It seems to agree with you otherwise," I chuckled, patting her arm. "You look wonderful."

"Thanks," she said with a quick smile. Canderous and Atton were a little away from us, Xarga and Zuka of the ubiquitous honor guard nearby. "There's something different about you too…you look happy."

"Meaning I wasn't before?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

She flushed a little. "Sometimes I should just ask for salt to go with the foot I have perpetually in my mouth. But you know what I mean."

"Yes, I do," I said warmly, letting her off the hook.

"So when do Revan and Carth arrive?" Jennet asked anxiously. "I can't wait to meet her."

"Carth wanted to get some things settled with command before they left. They should get here in a few hours," I said, for what felt like the hundredth time.

The enthusiastic reunion with our friends had been wonderful, but we had arrived in the middle of the work day, and I had insisted that everyone carry on as usual after the initial greetings. There was plenty of time to catch up, and it would be better to do so with Revan present. Reluctantly, everyone had returned to their tasks for the day: Bao Dur to supervise the last of the building and clearing of the jungle for the next phase of construction, Visas to complete her notes for the meeting, scheduled for the day after tomorrow, Disciple to work with the Elders on cataloging the Mandoa library, and supervise the outfitting of the central hospital. Mira was working with Jarxel, Dax and Kelborn on a training schedule with the Mandoa warriors. Megari had, surprisingly, offered to work as head housekeeper in the Mandalore's home, and had hurried back to organize the evening's get together. I asked Jennet about that, and she shrugged.

"She doesn't need the credits," she said cheerfully, "although we pay her well, of course. In fact, we're insisting on paying everyone not Republic affiliated for their time and efforts; it hardly seems fair to just expect them to work for the hell of it. The Republic pitches in for some of it; Canderous and I pay the rest. He's had some really spectacular investments the last six months; the man couldn't lose credits if he tried."

I laughed, and Jennet giggled companionably with me. "Anyway, Megari announced that she had found a good home for her and Danni, and that she wanted to stay, but she couldn't stand the thought of living without a purpose. So she decided her purpose was me. She's determined to organize my life, and does a damn fine job of it, I have to admit. I don't know what I'd do without her now. She and Danni live in one of the cottages on the estate. Between her and Lorna, I can't use a 'fresher alone, I swear."

Lorna was one of the first refugees to arrive on Dxun. Like most Mandalorian women, she was tall, strongly built, and no-nonsense, but unfortunately, not a warrior. Fierce as all her race was, she never quite got the knack of swinging a sword and was, by her own estimation, only an adequate shot with a blaster. But she could cook like a dream, and had appointed herself head of the mess hall. Apparently, she had accepted the position of cook and soon to be head nanny of the Mandalore's household. According to Jennet, she and Megari kept the huge house running so smoothly, Jennet barely had to do more than approve an occasional menu.

"How is Helen doing?" I asked gently, automatically reaching toward Jennet's protruding belly. I drew back, realizing how rude that was. Until recently, I had not been one to enjoy being touched uninvited, and I blushed a little at my unthinking intrusion. Jennet grinned, not the least offended, and took my hand, placing it firmly on the upper curve of her stomach.

"Growing big," she said, smiling dreamily. "Kicks like crazy, too."

Almost as if invited by her mother's words, I felt a firm push against my hand and looked up in delight. "She's strong," I marveled.

"She's half Mandalorian," Jennet laughed. "What do you expect?"

I noticed she had her other hand at the small of her back, and drew back in concern. "You should sit for a while," I said firmly. "Exercise is good for you, but we've walked half the city."

"There's good chairs in here," Jennet agreed, leading me into the communications center. Finding a low-slung chair, she eased herself down into it with a groan. "That's better," she said, leaning back and putting her hand protectively over her mound.

"When is she due again?" I asked, mostly to fill the silence.

"Six weeks," Jennet said ruefully. "If I don't convince Disciple to take her earlier. I can hardly move, and I swear my liver is perpetually bruised."

"That wouldn't be very safe," I said sternly.

I was unsurprised Disciple was more or less in charge of Jennet's pregnancy. He was the closest thing to a doctor on Dxun, having had extensive medical training during his soldier days. Combine that with his Jedi training and ability to heal through the Force, he was perfect as the Lady of the Mandoa's physician. Visas, I had learned, was also an accomplished midwife, which I was certain was a relief to Canderous. He probably didn't relish the idea of a man attending his wife.

"I know," Jennet said cheerfully. "I just bitch about it, that's all. Helen will make her appearance when she's good and ready. I suspect she might come a little early, though, first baby notwithstanding. She seems to be as impatient as her mother," she added with a wry smile. She suddenly looked serious, and looked at me soberly. "I wanted to ask…I know you can't promise, the Order needs you right now, and you're going to be very busy. But…if you can, could you be with me when I have Helen? You're the most advanced healer I know, besides me, and I know Canderous would feel better if you were at hand. Disciple's good, and so is Visas, but…"

"Of course I will," I said firmly. "I've delivered a few babies in my time, even when I was Force blind. But Visas is much more experienced in that than I am."

"I know," Jennet said carefully, "and I trust her completely. It's afterwards I'm worried about. Helen's big, and could do a lot of damage, and I don't know how much of my own healing will be available to help. It's functioning, but slower than usual; most of the energy is aiding the baby. If I lose a lot of blood…"

"You shouldn't worry about that," I said sharply. "Both Visas and Disciple are gifted healers, they'll pull you through fine. Didn't Visas See that you'll recover fast?"

"Yes," Jennet said, and the faint panic I saw in her large brown eyes faded. "She did. And she should know, yes?"

"She does know," I said soothingly. "And I'll be there, too," I promised.

"Only if you can," Jennet said firmly, and I nodded, realizing her momentary fright was gone.

Atton and Canderous came in then. Crossing rapidly to his wife and kissing her with some enthusiasm, his hand automatically caressing their unborn child, and Jennet gave a happy little sigh. Atton grinned at the couple, then looked away.

"Honestly, some people and their public displays," he said just loud enough to be overheard. Canderous gave him a good glower, and I laughed.

"You could try kissing me," I said sweetly. "Then you won't be so left out."

He did so with gusto and I was a little breathless when he released my lips. "Showoff," I scolded, and he grinned.

It was getting toward the end of the day, and Revan was due within an hour. We followed the Mandalore and his Lady to the house, trailing the honor guard behind. Megari greeted us at the door with an invitation of cold drinks and snacks waiting in the receiving hall, which ran the length of the house, and was almost the same width. As huge as it was, I wondered if it was big enough for public meetings, as Canderous had intended it to be.

Jennet had proudly shown off her home upon Atton's and my arrival, and I was impressed with its air of cozy hominess, despite its immense size. The main floor, in addition to the receiving hall, boasted a large kitchen, a private family dining room, an even bigger common room, two offices, an armory, a library, a gym, complete with sauna, and a small meditation room, filled with Jennet's growing collection of crystals and candles in various holders, the soothing cadence of a mechanical waterfall burbling in the background. Entrances to the Honor Guard wing and servant's quarters were on either side of the house.

The upstairs consisted of ten – yes, ten - bedrooms, most of which had their own refreshers, or shared one with a mirroring chamber. Six were designated for the family, four for guests. The master suite was breathtaking, decorated in shades of blue, green, gold, and deep teal, making it a restful haven, yet quite a bit more lush than I would have pictured Canderous approving of. It wasn't overly feminine, despite the colors, but then Jennet wasn't a ruffles and frills sort of woman, either. Comfortable, sturdy furniture was chosen throughout the house, in keeping with a household more concerned with function than style, but somehow, it all blended to make a welcoming atmosphere. I credited Jennet and Megari mostly with this, along with the decorator Atton had found for her when the house had been in the planning stage.

In the nursery, however, Jennet had let her imagination run wild. The ceiling was painted to resemble the night sky, with stars twinkling overhead, and the walls were a soothing summer blue. Flipping a switch, the ceiling changed from night to day, puffy clouds skittering across a startling field of blue, muted sunlight warming the whole room. The various furniture was sturdy and charming, and included an old fashioned rocking chair and footrest, which Jennet had plopped herself down on, groaning a little and rubbing her back. Rather than insipid pastels, the colors were mostly bright primaries, with pictures of various children's tales framed on the walls. I immediately decided that if Atton and I have children, I wanted Jennet to design my nursery.

"It's charming!" I had exclaimed, and Jennet had glowed with the compliment.

Now, we helped ourselves to food and drink, and sat, chatting as we waited for the rest of our friends to arrive. Bao Dur arrived first, obviously freshly showered and in a clean tunic and breeches. He always seemed to make even the most formal of clothing look a little rumpled and unkempt, as if ready to roll up the sleeves and get to work. Even Jedi robes, which he wore only when officially representing the Order, seemed more a costume on him than actual clothing. I was enormously happy to see him, and loved his scruffiness. He picked me up unceremoniously, kissed me on both cheeks, and hugged me until I couldn't breathe.

"I know I said hello earlier, General, but I'm just so happy to see you," he said in his gentle voice.

"Urgh," I answered, and he loosened his grip. I kissed him back, and realized I was a good meter off the ground. "Let me down, please," I said, laughing. "I feel like I'm about Danni's age."

As if called, the little girl scampered into the room, a pet gizka at her heels. I looked at Jennet, who was grinning widely. After the Star Forge mission, I was certain Canderous wouldn't allow a gizka anywhere near his home; the ship had been infested with the creatures, not leaving until near the end, when the Ebon Hawk crashed onto their home planet. They were gentle animals, cute and cuddly and adoring attention, but they bred astonishingly quickly, and no one seemed to know how. The best biologists in the galaxy were stumped.

"As far as we've been able to find out, there needs to be at least two of them to breed," Jennet answered my inquiring look. "We're certain there isn't another anywhere on Dxun."

Danni headed straight to me, putting her arms up in invitation. I picked her up, hugging her close and enjoying the enthusiastic, if sticky, greeting from Megari's daughter.

"Hello, darling," I said into her tumble of brown curls. "My, you've gotten big."

"I'm four," she announced, and I winced that I had missed her birthday. "Bao Dur gave me Squeaky for my birthday." Wiggling down from my embrace, she scooped up her pet, which cooed at me charmingly, and shivered with pleasure when I scratched it behind the ears. He let out a squawk worthy of his name when I stopped.

"How wonderful," I said, smiling at the pair. "I'm sorry I wasn't here for you birthday."

"It's okay," Danni said generously. "You brought me a present."

"Danni," Megari said sternly, "that's rude. You don't assume people bring you presents."

"I'm sorry, Lady," Danni said contritely. She hadn't yet mastered my full name, and called me Lady, which I found endearing.

"It's all right," I laughed, and Danni brightened. "But you're right, I _did_ bring you a present," I noted that her announcement seemed more a placid certainty than childish greed and wondered how her Seer training with Visas was progressing. I pulled a small box out of my robes and handed it to her. "Happy birthday, darling."

She tore it open with enthusiasm, opening the little box with happy anticipation. Inside was a small gold necklace, sturdily but delicately made, suitable for an active child. An oval locket hung as a pendant, and I showed her how to open the catch. Inside, I had placed a tiny holo of her mother and Bao Dur standing together outside the mess hall of the original camp.

"Mama!" she crowed excitedly, "It's you and Bao Dur!"

Her pronunciation of the Iridonian's name was closer to 'Bowder' than its correct 'Bayo-door', but I could tell the big Zabrak could care less. He adored the child, and next to her mother, Danni loved him best of all. I wondered how this cautious family relationship had progressed in my absence. He had not greeted Megari with any pronounced warmth, in fact, his welcoming of me had been more lover-like. But as I had seen before my hurried departure, his eyes followed Megari everywhere, and she watched him nearly as closely, when she thought herself unobserved. I sighed inwardly, and hoped eventually he'd find the courage to address his feelings toward her. Not a warrior herself, Megari nonetheless possessed a similar mixture of gentle competence, intelligence, and fierce courage that was vastly appealing. She and her daughter had been the captives of a sociopathic self-styled prince of a small but deadly criminal organization for a year; you don't survive that without strength of character.

"That's lovely, sweetheart," Megari said, peering over her daughter's shoulder. She looked up at me, smiling. "Thank you," she said softly, and nudged her offspring.

"Thank you, Lady," Danni said promptly, giving me another huge hug, and when she'd quit dancing around I helped her fasten it around her neck.

She gave me a singularly sweet smile and went over to Atton, proceeding to grab his belt and climb him like the side of a mountain, Squeaky nosing his boots. This was obviously a ritual with the two of them, and Atton was grinning at the little girl, reaching for her hands and letting her walk up until she flopped backwards, squealing with delight. Dexterously scooping her up, he flipped her upright and settled her on his broad shoulders. She immediately started tugging at the thong holding his hair back and succeeded in pulling it off. Thick brown locks spilled through her fingers, and Danni, much to my amusement, started to plait them into a clumsy braid. Not at all embarrassed, he gave me a smile that made him look about twelve, and I laughed.

Mira had arrived with Dax, Jarxel, and Kelborn in tow while I had been attending Danni. Shortly behind them were Disciple and Visas. Kelborn disappeared into the wing that housed the honor guard. Jarxel, who lived in one of the three cottages on the estate, stayed in the hall. I wondered where everyone else lived, and soon discovered that Mira had an apartment near the original camp, as did the rest of the Jedi in residence on Dxun. It was a complex that would house diplomatic guests that etiquette didn't place in the Mandalore's guest rooms. Revan, Carth, Mission, Dustil, and I were offered rooms on the estate, but I politely declined, preferring to stay with Atton in his apartment next door to Bao Dur. I was certain the Onasi party would accept, however, and did so on their behalf.

A klaxon announced a ship approaching the grounds, and we all filed outside to greet the Ebon Hawk. Carth expertly guided the ship into a hanger, and soon the four, no, five? of them emerged, Revan tucked under Carth's arm, Mission and Dustil holding hands a few steps behind, all of them carrying satchels of various sizes. The fifth member was Major Cantor, who was toting a slender metal case I knew contained a powerful miniature computer/vidlink, along with a soft bag I assumed was the extent of his luggage.

Canderous and Jennet were at the head of our group, welcoming smiles on their faces. I was standing close enough to see the Mandalore's face. While he was smiling, I could see just a hint of the tension that was under it, if nothing else by the way Jennet was protectively moving closer and tightening her grip on his arm. He glanced down at her and patted her hand, a look passing between them that told me they were communicating mentally.

A burst of sheer nosy curiosity ran through me, and I wondered what they had said. This was the first time Canderous had seen Revan in over five years, and from what I could gather, he felt a deep friendship and near hero worship for her, in his gruff and prickly way. Revan had found the Helm after Malachor V, and given it to Canderous after the Star Forge mission, sparking his quest to reunite his people. He must be feeling some strong emotions right now, his stoic face notwithstanding. I schooled my own to mask my thoughts and smiled as Revan drew near.

"Canderous," she said, disengaging from Carth and putting out a hand. The Mandalore took it in a warrior's grip, his large one engulfing her slender wrist. "You're looking well. It's been a long time."

"Almost six years," he agreed in his deep rumble. "You haven't changed a bit."

"You have," she said, looking him up and down. "I swear you're taller than I remember. And you look different…happy. It suits you."

Suddenly, she let go his hand and hugged him warmly. Startled, Canderous had to bend considerably to accommodate, and simply picked her up as easily as breathing. She kissed his cheeks while dangling, and got one planted on his mouth before he hastily set her down. Jennet looked a bit miffed at that. Carth looked amused, and I let out the breath I hadn't realized I was holding. I had wondered about Annie's feelings toward Canderous, especially since she hadn't seemed inclined to speak of it. That she loved Carth more than life I had no doubt, but there was a definite attraction between her and the big Mandalorian, something neither of them acknowledged. But the moment passed as she turned to Jennet, a warm smile on her face.

"Forgive me," Annie said contritely, "I'm fond of your husband, and it's been a long time. You must be Jennet."

"Yes," Jennet said sweetly, no sign of distress. "Welcome to Dxun."

"Well, I've been here before," Revan laughed wryly. "It was under less welcoming circumstances, though."

"So I've heard," Jennet said, smiling.

I thought it looked a little brittle, and worried Revan had really stepped into it. Jennet was one of the most open, giving people I knew, and usually very easy to read. But when she chose to hide her feelings, no one could break through, except Canderous. I saw him touch her on the arm, and her posture relaxed slightly. I made a mental note to scold Annie later.

"Welcome back," Canderous said ironically. "You'll find things have changed considerably."

"Well, no one's shooting at me, so I'd say it's improved a lot," Revan said cheerfully, and Canderous let out a bark of laughter.

"No so far," he agreed. "Come on in, dinner's waiting."

We all trooped into the house, and finished introductions inside. Carth and Canderous greeted each other affably, Mission hugged everyone, Dustil shook hands all around. Will Cantor was introduced as the admiral's aide, and was immediately offered the hospitality of the Mandalore. The Jedi were warm and welcoming toward the admiral and his children, but seemed a little awed by Revan, something she took note of almost immediately. She met the Jedi individually, bowing formally first, shaking hands warmly after, with a smile and word for each, and they all relaxed when faced with her charm. I noticed, however, they tended to group more toward me than Annie, something I understood, but hoped to overcome. Annie saw it too, and shot me a wry look as we seated ourselves for dinner.

The meal was a huge success, and by the end of it, everyone was much more comfortable with each other. Revan had been accepted, perhaps a little warily, but warmly enough, and she seemed to genuinely like this group of friends of mine. Bao Dur, of course, knew her, if not really personally, but they had met during the war. He seemed to be quietly assessing Annie in his thoughtful way, and kept more or less silent through the chatter. Not surprising; he wasn't much of a talker, usually making the average Mandalorian seem positively chatty. But I knew him, and could see the signs that he was measuring what he had known of the Great General Revan vs. the woman he saw now. I watched out of the corner of my eye and saw the moment he decided she was genuine. Hiding a smile, I finished my meal.

After dinner, we gathered in the large family area in the back of the house, sitting and catching up. Will Cantor was discretely in a corner, sitting near Visas, sipping a glass of wine and listening quietly to the various conversations. I had checked him thoroughly when I realized that Carth was officially on a working vacation, here not just to reacquaint himself with his fiancé but also in support of the Jedi Order, and strengthening relations between the Republic and the Mandoa. I wondered if the man ever took time off, and snorted internally when I realized I never did, either. Will was an interesting read, from what I could see; definitely on the side of light, but with a pragmatic air that spoke of not worrying over much about rules if the situation needed it. I liked his quiet feel of capable competence.

After a time, I was asked to recount the last six months, and did so as succinctly as possible. When I had finished, everyone looked over at Revan, who was seated on the floor next to Mission, both of them casually leaning against their intended's legs.

"I know you all have questions," she said quietly, looking at each of our companions in turn. "And I'll answer them, I promise. I'd rather wait until the meeting, if you don't mind, for most of it. I have quite a lot of intelligence to go over, and I'd like to have all the Jedi's input, as well as the Republic's. I realize that the Order's meeting is primarily to discuss structure, law, and leadership, but I want to extend that to dealing with the ongoing Sith threat. If Ladria agrees," she said, with a nod to me. I nodded back gravely. "With that in mind, I'm inviting Carth to attend that part of our meetings, as representative of the Republic, and Canderous as Mandalore."

"And Jennet," she said, with a penetrating look at the Lady of the Mandoa, "I hope I haven't offended you to the point that you would not consider being formally accepted into the Order. Ladria has told me so much about you, and she's not easy to impress. You would be a real asset."

"I'll think about it," Jennet said, with a genuine smile. "But it's not like I'm much help right now."

"I think you're more of an example than you realize," I said to my friend, leaning over Atton to pat her arm. "We want to change Jedi law to allow members to marry and have families. You're very good proof that this can work."

She looked thoughtful at that, and nodded slowly. "I hadn't really thought of it like that."

"I hope you consider it," I answered, and sat back.

Mira spoke up from her corner, where she had been snuggling with Dax. Dax Ondi was the official Champion of the Lady of the Mandoa, a former mercenary that had fought under Canderous' command during the war, and later met Jennet. Jennet had been a bounty hunter at the time, and she, Dax, and another Mandalorian named Jareth had teamed up for about six months. This partnership had ended with Jareth's, and, as Jennet thought at the time, Dax's death in a brutal cantina brawl instigated by a Hutt who was extorting the owner. Four years later, not long after Jennet met Canderous, Dax had proved he was very much alive when we had been part of the attack on Telos. Dax had been the leader of a band of mercenaries fighting to protect the citadel station. He and Mira had been smitten with each other almost on sight.

"So, Revan," the redheaded Jedi called, "Are you planning on heading the Council now? I mean, I have no problem with some changes, nobody's going to tell me who I can love," she said pointedly, smiling up at her handsome companion. "But, pardon my rude observation…"

There was a collective snort from most of the members of the room, and I hid a grin. Atton made a noise between a guffaw and strained choke, having just taken a sip of wine at the time.

"…but five of the what, nineteen? Jedi left are Ladria's Padawan. Two of the surviving members of the Order, Stefan and Ju'hani, are keeping things in a holding pattern until she returns. One who should be readmitted to the Order, Jolee Bindo, is refusing to until either you or Ladria returns. And I have a feeling Jennet here isn't eager to join if she's uneasy about leadership. Hell, I'm not so thrilled about it now, and I've only been a Jedi a year. I have nothing against you, understand, well, except the whole 'I used to be a Sith Lord' thing…"

At that, Carth jerked and came close to glaring at Mira, who ignored his look. Revan instinctively laid a hand on his arm, having to reach up to do so, and without looking at him still managed to calm the admiral. Canderous had a similar reaction, as did Mission and Dustil. Jennet, I noted, didn't even stiffen. Interestingly, Will Cantor didn't react at all. Bao Dur looked quietly interested, Visas and Disciple equally so. I suppressed a smile; Mira was blunt, but had a point. She continued her thought without showing any awareness of various reactions in the room.

"…but Ladria is an established leader in the Order now. It wasn't _her_ fault Kriea pulled a stalker on her and killed the remaining Council. You have a reputation, and I'll obey what the Order decides, but hey, _we're_ most of it now. And we don't know you."

"Ladria does," Revan said quietly, not seeming offended at all.

"Yeah, she does, and I trust her absolutely," Mira said, giving Revan a sweet smile, which on her looked rather menacing. "If she says the Council is safe in your hands, I believe her."

"But you don't trust me," Revan observed, looking rather amused.

"I didn't say that," Mira pointed out, smiling wider. "But I'm not the trusting sort, no."

"I don't blame you," Revan said, shrugging. "There's not much I can do to convince you otherwise, except agree that you can trust Ladria."

She smiled at me, with such an Annie sweetness that I fought not to laugh; she usually looked like that when she was planning something. I smiled blandly back.

Heads swiveled my way, and I shrugged. "Revan is not, and never will be again, an instrument of the dark side," I said calmly, smiling at my Padawan. "That you can believe."

There was a quiet ripple through the room, and Mira studied me carefully. Apparently satisfied, she nodded and turned back to Revan.

"Like I said, I trust my Master," Mira said, a small smile on her face.

"Wise of you," Revan said serenely. "But I have no intention of taking over the Council."

I looked at her in astonishment, standing abruptly. "You what?"

"Nice to know I can still surprise you, Dree," Annie said mildly.

I continued to stare hard at her, wondering what was going on in her head. I could try to communicate mentally, but doubted I'd get much; she can shield even better than Atton.

"Do you care to explain yourself?" I demanded.

"Not really, no," Revan said, smiling widely. "But I will; I think your Padawan would challenge me to a duel if I don't."

"She wouldn't," I said shortly. "I've trained her better than that."

"Exactly," Revan said, quite enjoying herself. "_You've_ trained her. And Atton, Bao Dur, Visas, and Disciple. No Jedi has ever had five Padawan at once. Yet you've done a marvelous job with all of them."

"It's not like there was anyone else around to do it," I snapped. There was a flurry of protest from all my Padawan, and I put up a hand to quiet them. "I'm sorry; I don't mean that as it sounds. I'm proud of all of you, and amazed at your progress. You all are nearly ready to be Masters yourselves. I just meant that I did what I had to, at the time, and trained you all the best I could."

"General, don't sell yourself short," Bao Dur said quietly. "We couldn't have done so well without as excellent an example and teacher as you are."

"And that's what I'm saying," Revan said reasonably. "I'll sit the Council if I must; someone has to. But head it, no. I've never trained _anyone_. Helped, yes, guided somewhat, sure. Trained a Jedi? Never. I remember Master Stefan, and he is a wise man, if a little bit of a rogue. I think his input would be invaluable. Ju'hani would run the council very well, too. But neither of them have your raw talent for leadership. I intend to approach the meeting by nominating you as Chairman."

"That isn't at all what I wanted," I protested.

"Which is exactly why you should be Chairman," Annie said quietly. "You have no agenda, except the good of the Order."

"But…" I stared at her, then looked around at the smiling faces of my friends. All I saw was support and, perhaps, a little relief. I glanced at Jennet, who was giving me the same look I had given her when she had protested being given the rank of General when the Mandalorians join the Republic in the war against the Sith. I'd told her at the time that the biggest part of being one was knowing how to lead, and she had that down cold. She seemed to see the thought flit across my face, and gave me an encouraging nod. I swallowed, and nodded back. "All right," I said quietly. "If the Order agrees, then I'll accept."

"And I will join, too," Jennet said suddenly, although Canderous didn't react; she must have been discussing it mentally with him. "You guys need all the help you can get, I think. But," she looked fiercely at me and Revan in turn, "If my duties as Jedi conflict with my responsibility as Lady of the Mandoa, you lose."

"Understood," I said, smiling. "Welcome to the Order."

"Is that it?" Jennet demanded, giving me a mock scowl. "No vigil, or tests, or even a greeting card?"

"Vigil, certainly," I said serenely. "You can keep that once the Council has cleared your initiation. I've seen you fight; I think we can waive any tests. You'll need some training, though. You're woefully unschooled in many basic abilities of most Jedi. But I predict that after a year of being a Padawan, you should be ready to accept Master."

"Really?" Jennet said with a touch of wonder.

"Absolutely," I assured her. "And I think that Revan would be an excellent Master for you."

"Revan?" Jennet yelped.

"Me?" Revan said, shooting me a scowl.

"Yes," I said, smiling at them both. "It's true that I am as close to equal to Jennet's healing ability as anyone in the Order I know of, but Revan is by far the better fighter of the two of us. Jennet needs a Master that can address that aspect. I expect you both will learn much from each other."

"I hate to interfere with Jedi business," Canderous interrupted, his deep voice penetrating the sudden stillness of the room, "but I've seen both of them fight, and no offense, Revan, Jennet's better."

"So I've been told," Revan answered thoughtfully. "Are you certain I have anything to offer her, Dree?"

"Absolutely," I said firmly. "She needs training in the basics of Force powers, and I can't think of anyone that has mastered that better than you. As for fighting, you have a natural talent; Jennet will respond to that."

"Hello, sitting right here," Jennet said irritably. "Do I have a say in this?"

"You might as well accept it," Revan said to her, amused. "Once Dree makes up her mind, it's impossible to change."

"Do I have to call you Master?" Jennet asked, but I could see the smile fighting to get out.

"It is tradition," Revan said sweetly. "Who am I to fly in the face of that?"

This effectively broke the tension of the room, and even Will laughed.

"And there is the matter of mine and Ladria's marriage to address," Revan said when the chuckles subsided. "I think we can count that the Council will accept Ladria as Chairman, and from there agree to certain changes in Jedi law. Assuming that, we can expect a double wedding in short order." She looked up at Carth, and exchanged warm smiles.

"They have to agree to yours," I pointed out. "It was part of your original agreement with the Council. But yes, I think we can assume that Atton and I will be approved as well."

"Wait a minute," Atton protested. "I don't give a frak what the Council thinks; you said you'd marry me, and I intend to see that through."

We had announced our respective engagements with our friends during dinner, and everyone was genuinely happy for me and Atton, and Carth; Revan by extension, for most. Atton had formally asked Bao Dur to stand as witness to the both of us. I had considered having a female attendant and discarded the idea. Annie was my best friend; she could be legal witness along with Bao Dur. To invite anyone else without asking all of my female friends would be awkward and possibly hurtful. Rather than choosing, thereby making the ceremony a lot bigger and complicated than I wished, I decided that it was best to simply allow Revan to have Mission be her attendant, while I had none. Dustil was standing as best man to his father.

"I'm not letting the Council rule us," I said soothingly to Atton. "I merely want the first order of business to be to abolish the taboo against marriage. If the Order disagrees, I'll simply resign my position as Chairman, assuming I'm elected, and we'll get married. If it requires me breaking with the Order, so be it."

"Okay then," Atton grumbled.

"I doubt that's going to be a problem," Revan said, amused. "So we can proceed with wedding plans, yes?"

"I can," Carth said teasingly. "You said you didn't care about the details."

"I told you, I lied," Revan said comfortably, kissing his hand that rested on her shoulder.

"Make it a triple wedding," said Mission unexpectedly.

Everyone turned to stare at the Twi'lik woman, most with mouths agape.

"Excuse me?" Carth said sharply.

"Dad," Dustil said quietly, "Mission and I have talked about it. Neither of us want a big wedding, and everyone we really care about is in this room now. We don't want to impose on your big day, or, Aunt Dree's and Uncle Atton's, but we'd like to forgo the next six or eight months and just do it now. I've finished the Academy, and Mission is well established in her own career. We know it's going to be a rough few years while I make rank, but that's not going to be any different next year. We promised we'd wait. We did that. I hope you will consent to us marrying now."

Carth looked a little stunned, but Revan stepped up like the leader she was. "I have no problem with that," she said, smiling at her children. "I'm thrilled that you want to share our day with us."

Carth swallowed visibly, but nodded. "If you're sure, then of course you have my blessing," he said quietly.

"We're sure," Mission said happily. "If Annie will be my maid of honor."

"Of course," Annie said warmly, and the women embraced, while the rest of our friends broke into happy applause and sincere congratulations.


	15. First Impressions

Author's note: All right, I lied. Please forgive me. The Council meeting will begin in the _next_ chapter, not this one. This chapter is a little slow, I'll admit, and I'm sorry. It's mostly a transition chapter, and we get to meet the remaining Jedi. I found it rather fun to write (coming up with Star Wars-ey sounding names for characters is a challenge, and spontaneous discriptions of people you're not quite sure of who will be important or not is sort of fun too) and hope it's fun to read. It's one of the few times Ladria admits, or shows, real nervousness. Interesting what will make a person edgy, hm?

I want to remind my readers that updates will slow down for a bit, as I'll have family visiting for the next few weeks, plus an increase of hours at work. I promise I'll write as often as I can, and update whenever I have enough for a chapter. Thanks for your patience and understanding.

As always, thank you so much for the comments and support! Please continue to do so!

Always, LJ

* * *

Not long after Mission and Dustil's unexpected announcement, my Padawan and I left the Ordo home, walking back to the apartments allotted for their use. I was unsurprised that Dax was included in our group. It was unlikely he got much privacy in his room at the estate, and he took his duty seriously as both Champion and honor guardsman; he'd keep his romance with Mira as separate from it as possible. Mira herself seemed unconcerned to the Mandalore's opinion of her relationship with one of his men. I personally knew Jennet heartily approved, and encouraged the couple to spend as much time together as possible. As we walked the rather long paved street in front of the house, Visas quietly bid us good night and slipped into the shadows, arm in arm with Jarxel, Canderous' XO. He had been so silent I had hardly noticed his presence, and I smiled as I watched the pair make their way toward his cottage.

Bao Dur was quiet as usual, listening to the subdued chatter between the rest of us. Disciple, who I had not spoken to much today, suddenly appeared at my side as Atton was drawn into a friendly verbal sparring match with Mira.

"Master," he said quietly, "I would speak with you a moment."

Of my five Padawan, he was the one most inclined to keep things very formal. Understandable, as both his personality and training were the most conventional of the lot. I liked the tall blonde Jedi very much, but while he was very warm and considerate, he was also the most private of the Ebon Hawk companions. Which, come to think of it, was saying quite a lot. He answered questions readily when asked, but tended to keep his own feelings and past to himself. I understood; I had spent so much of my life guarding against getting too close that the impulse to share my most private feelings was virtually nonexistent. I was better now; Revan's return and Atton's love, Bao Dur and Visa's devotion and Mira's brash tendency to get to the heart of things had done much to open me up. The realization that Disciple had been left hanging in his career as Jedi by me had contributed, as well. I still felt guilty over it, yet the young man never said a word of reproach, and devoted himself to his studies admirably.

Still, my Force bond with him was both the weakest, and in some ways, the strongest I had. I didn't know him as well as the others, not having the past I shared with Bao Dur, for example, to build on. Yet he had carried his faith in me through the years, even when I myself had forgotten his name, and it offered a sort of strength that I was humbled to be a part of.

"Certainly," I answered with a smile. "What can I help you with?"

"I wish to discuss my role during the Council meeting," he said with a small smile. "And my ultimate role as Jedi."

"That's quite a discussion," I observed, smiling to take any reproach out of my tone. "I'd had in mind for you to act as scribe during the proceedings; you've done fine work during the Mate trials for the Mandalore."

"I was hoping you would say that," Disciple said happily. "I would be honored. I realize that I'm being forward, but I hope that you would consider a permanent position within the Order, and perhaps later, the Council, for me."

"We'll need an archivist," I said carefully, "and I can think of no one more suited for that job. But you have many talents, not the least of which is your medical training. Plus, you are an admiral diplomat; we could use another six of you."

"I appreciate the endorsement," he brightened at the compliment. "I was thinking that we're so small now, many of us will be forced to take on at least several areas of responsibility. But that isn't exactly what I wanted to speak about."

"Well, spit it out," I said with unusual casualness. I couldn't help it; like Jennet once told me, Disciple either inspired one to be on their best behavior, or rebel and try and goad him into letting his speech and manner relax. I was tired; that's all I can say for my excuse.

He chuckled a bit at that, and nodded. "All right," he said affably. "I want permission to return to Coruscant…by way of Telos."

"Excuse me?" I stopped walking, staring him. "What can you possibly want at Telos?"

"The holocrons," he said softly, and I shivered.

"There's a good chance they're destroyed," I said crisply.

The rest of our party had moved on, but Atton had taken note of my sudden stop and was looking at me inquiringly. I gave him a gesture, and he nodded, indicating that he'd wait for me at the entrance of his building.

"I realize that," Disciple said, nodding. "But they're too dangerous to leave for anyone to find, if they survived. They need to be cataloged, studied, and kept under careful guard."

"You have a point," I said slowly. "And you want to do this? Just being around them is dangerous to a sensitive."

"Bao Dur and I have constructed dampeners that should mask the energy of the dark side embedded in the holocrons," Disciple said, surprising me. "I have thought on this for some time. You told me that there were hundreds of them in Atris' temple. We can have several thousand made within a few months."

"So short a time?" I asked with astonishment. "Are you certain they'll work?"

"Bao Dur is an absolute genius," Disciple enthused. "We experimented together with the several Force sensitive objects, and each other. He's developed a very simple device that analyzes Force projection and automatically adjusts its frequency to dampen it."

"He's _what_?" I asked, my hand shooting out almost of its own accord and grasping Disciple's arm, hard.

"He's developed…" Disciple began again, but I cut him off.

"I heard you," I said sharply. "What I do not believe it that you and Bao Dur, of all people, haven't considered its _other_ possible uses. _Please_ tell me this discovery hasn't been a topic of general discussion."

"Of course not," the handsome face was as close to a reproachful scowl as I'd ever seen it. "Credit Bao Dur, if not myself, with _some_ intelligence. At first, we were only trying to solve a particular problem. Once the device was developed and tested, we understood it could be used as a weapon."

"Not a weapon, precisely," I said carefully. "I apologize for my harshness. It's just…well, its uses were immediately apparent to me. I should have thought before I spoke."

He waved off my apology, his face at once forgiving and contrite. "Of course, Master, I should have said right away we were aware of the potential of our experiment. I apologize for alarming you."

"No, no," I said, relaxing and releasing his arm. I got back to the subject at hand. "When worn, does it block abilities, or merely mask them?" I asked.

"It can do both, actually," Disciple said. "Depending on the setting. We could, of course, manufacture them to only do one or the other."

"Do you have a working model?" I began to ask, but shook my head before he answered. "Of course you do, or you wouldn't be telling me. I want a full report on this by tomorrow afternoon, and be prepared to present it to the Council."

"Of course, Master," Disciple said promptly. "Am I to understand that you would prefer to table the discussion of the holocrons and my possible role in their recovery at a later date?"

"You understand precisely as always, Mical," I smiled. "It's late, and you've given me a lot to think about. Would it be convenient to meet the day after tomorrow, perhaps around six o'clock?"

Disciple rarely uses his given name, and I had developed the habit of invoking it to show particular approval or gravity. In this case, both. If I found his preference to be addressed by his former title odd, it was no more so than other personal habits displayed by my companions. How many times had I found Mira furiously cleaning her rocket launcher, after some tiff, or Atton endlessly playing a one sided Pazzak game, to help him 'think'? Not to mention Bao Dur's insistence on addressing me as General, a title I hadn't held for more than fifteen years.

"That would be most convenient," he agreed, brightening at the suggestion. "But that is the first day of the Order meeting. Surely there will be a reception of some sort? Would it not be better to postpone this discussion until the next day?"

"This is why I have multiple Padawan," I laughed. "To keep me on schedule and remind me when I'm falling down on the job. Thank you for understanding, and I'll hold you to that talk. May I impose, and ask you to discuss with Lorna, Jennet and Megari to cobble together some sort of reception refreshments? Nothing too formal?"

"It would be my pleasure," he smiled widely, showing his dimple and perfect teeth, and was suddenly a breathtakingly handsome man.

Who was, I reminded myself sternly, eight years my junior and _not_ my beloved fiancé. Disciple's crush on me, I added for good measure, was a byproduct of the Force bond we share. Flattering, certainly, but not anything to take overly seriously, beyond being careful with his feelings. I drew my cloak of calm around me, and the moment passed; we were Master and Padawan again.

Before I had a chance to end the conversation, Disciple spoke again. "I hesitate to ask, Master, but there is something else I need to discuss that has been troubling me. It might take some time to…process…and if it's convenient, perhaps we could add that to our agenda during our meeting?"

"Of course," I said, immediately concerned. "If it's troubling you, perhaps you'd like to discuss it now?"

"No, it can wait," he said dismissively. "Nothing of great import, except to me. I only mention it now because it might take some time to explain, and don't wish to bother you with trivialities if you can't spare the time."

"I'll make time," I promised. "Are you quite certain you don't want to talk about it now?"

"Quite," he agreed, shrugging. "It's late, and there is much to prepare for the meeting. The rest of the Order should arrive tomorrow; that will keep you extremely busy. I am at your disposal with any assistance you may need."

"I appreciate that," I said sincerely.

Disciple gallantly escorted me the short distance to the apartment complex, where Atton was waiting patiently, leaning against the door frame. His face lit when he saw me, and I disengaged from Disciple's arm with a fond pat, taking Atton's proffered one. Genial goodnights were exchanged, and soon Atton opened his door with a theatrical flourish.

"It's not much," he said, grinning, "but it's home, for now."

I was impressed, actually. The apartment was surprisingly spacious, consisting of two bedrooms, a tiny kitchen/dining area, and a much larger common room than I would have thought. I wandered through, admiring the fact each bedroom had its own refresher, with a small 'public' one available as well. It was well thought out for diplomatic guest quarters, and I made a note to compliment Bao Dur on its design. Atton had either much better taste than I had given him credit for, or his decorator friend had had a hand in making it look stylish and comfortable all at once. I complimented him, and he shrugged.

"Bardolph did most of the apartments," Atton admitted, "but I chose the colors and furniture myself. He liked my input enough to do several of the others in the same style."

"I love it," I said sincerely.

It was very streamlined and modern, perhaps a little too much for my taste, done in mostly neutral colors with splashes of blue and hints of deep wine to give interest. I noticed that there were few personal items around, but those that were displayed were exceptional quality. I particularly admired a piece of artwork framed over the holofire in the common room. It was a real painting, not a holoprint, and looked antique; a seascape just after a storm, with driftwood and hints of treasure washed up on shore. I stood staring at it for several minutes, until Atton came up behind me, winding his arms around my waist and resting his chin on the top of my head.

"I got that not long after you left," he said softly.

"It's beautiful," I said, gazing up at the masterpiece.

"It's lovely," he agreed. "But my favorite is over there."

I glanced over where I felt his head nod, and sucked in my breath. It was a holo of me, beautifully framed, tucked in a corner over a bookcase. It had been taken during Jennet and Canderous' wedding reception. I was standing in profile by the bonfire, the light of the flames illuminating my body, surrounding me in a golden halo. The stark blackness behind accentuated the effect. It was a full length shot, startling in its contrasts, enlarged to nearly the size of the painting. The dreamy look on my face was arresting, my lips curved in a half smile, the look in my eyes far away. If I hadn't been the subject of the composition, I might have thought it was a professional print.

"You have amazing talent," I said a little breathlessly. "You could sell your work easily."

"I was inspired," he said quietly.

I was too honest to deny that I had a certain beauty, which most of the time I cared very little about, beyond the usual female vanity of hoping I aged well and wanting to look presentable. My usual toilette was minimal cosmetics and keeping my hair tidy and out of the way. But Atton had captured a moment that made me feel truly beautiful; as if he had somehow managed to project to anyone who cared to look exactly how he saw me.

"You made me look beautiful," I whispered, tilting my head back and kissing him.

"I didn't do that," he answered. "I just captured what was in front of me."

His kiss was slow and tender and warm, and I reveled in it. His hands ran smoothly over my hips, circled my waist, moving up my torso to cup my breasts. I moaned softly, and turned in his arms, wanting to kiss him better than over my shoulder. Our mouths melded into a sweet deep mutual possession, tongues intertwining, and I felt my knees go weak. I felt his fingers in my hair, working the pins free, and soon the mass of dark red silk flowed over his fingers like water. He buried his hands in the strands, cupping the back of my head, the other stroking its softness down my back. I shivered, and pulled his hair free of its bindings, sinking my fingers in the thick locks.

We hadn't made love since that awful night of revelation. Quite simply, I had been too emotionally drained to respond, and Atton, wisely understanding this, hadn't tried. He had let me know without words or any hint of regret that he would wait until I was ready. His behavior otherwise had been exactly the same, and this more than anything had allowed me to heal.

I was ready now, and eager to explore. As if this thought had triggered some storm within me, I was suddenly on fire and needing him so much I wasn't sure we'd make it to the bedroom. I didn't care; I was tugging at his clothes, ripping his belt loose, yanking his shirt. He wasn't in robes today, although I was. He had my belt off and the heavy folds pulled from my shoulders in short order. Abandoning my efforts to pull his shirt off, I slipped my hands under it, running them over the taut skin of his back. His mouth left mine, placing nibbling kisses along my jaw, teasing the sensitive spot behind my ear, and I felt the heat of his tongue tracing the line of my throat.

He stood straight suddenly, and scooped me off my feet, carrying me the short distance to the bedroom. I used the opportunity to pay close attention to the hollow of his throat, which made him groan. I smiled wickedly and nibbled his earlobe, eliciting more moans, which stopped when he managed to capture my mouth with his own. With a speed that amazed me, he deposited me on the wide bed, got both of our boots off and was pulling me back into his arms. His kiss was wild and hungry and so incredibly erotic I thought I might spontaneously combust.

He was very skilled at bringing a woman pleasure, but now I understood that always before, even during our incredible reunion, he had kept some part of himself in check. But now, all barriers were gone, and that wildness in him was free to step into the light. And I was no longer a prisoner inside myself, afraid to let go. My soul was already his; that had been established long before I admitted it. Now I felt the power of his, and let it sweep me away. And in doing so, I wasn't lost. I found myself, in him.

Later, I had no recollection of shedding the last of our clothes, or how long we explored each other's bodies before he possessed me completely. I was only aware of the power of our joining, the wild joy we shared, and the sweet burning surrender. I honestly could not tell where I ended and he began, and we gave ourselves up to the fire. Some eon later, the passion ebbed to a glowing ember, and utterly spent, we curled together, drowsy and heavy-limbed, slipping into dreams, which I was certain we shared, but couldn't remember in the morning.

The next day was hectic. There were fourteen Jedi to greet and house, Disciple's report to read, preparations for the reception to finalize. I delegated all I could, and had all five of my Padawan engaged in escort, planning, and setup duty. Canderous had arranged for us to have the use of the rest of the apartment building that Atton and the others currently occupied, which was otherwise empty. This was perfect; it had enough living space for each of the Jedi to have private quarters, and boasted a large common room suitable for a conference. Best of all, the room was well shielded and easily secured, ensuring privacy. I trusted Canderous and his honor guard completely, but I couldn't ignore that there were thousands of newcomers present, some of which may not enjoy the presence of a large group of Jedi, however well respected we were among their society.

After careful discussion, Annie and I had decided to have her discretely wait until the entire Order was assembled. I wanted the initial settling of the members done and everyone comfortable before dealing with the impact of her return. It was official Jedi business, I felt, and wanted to address it as such. Annie agreed, and was spending the day holed up in the Mandalore's estate. The Jedi were arriving at one of the currently unused public docks, well away from the Ordo residence.

The first to arrive was Master Stefan, who in his role as interim Chairman, would officiate the informal gathering tonight, in the common room of the apartment building. Atton volunteered to take Stefan's luggage to the appropriate apartment. Disciple had thoughtfully labeled each apartment temporarily, and Bao Dur had provided keycards. It was pleasant to see Stefan again, and he greeted me warmly, taking my hands and kissing both my cheeks after formally bowing.

"Ladria, my dear, it's wonderful to see you," he said in his charming way. "I understand your mission was successful?" He looked around, as if expecting Revan to pop out from behind one of the hangars.

"It was," I agreed, smiling. "Revan and I thought it best to wait until everyone was here before she makes an appearance, however."

"A wise idea, if disappointing," Stefan smiled, his dimple flashing and warm blue eyes bright. "I am looking forward to seeing her again. Ah well, she always did have a flair for the dramatic."

"I would be the last to disagree with that," I said dryly, and he laughed.

"Tell me, how is Jennet?" Stefan asked, with a hint of worry. He was Jennet's honorary uncle, having been the best friend of her late parents. At one point, her fiancé as well; a very complicated story. He still adored her, and she him, although they had gone back to their former uncle/beloved niece dynamic. He had been very pleased with her pregnancy, but understandably concerned. Jennet was a tiny woman, and while she was strong and in excellent physical health, her Mate was a large man; biology dictated that childbirth could be tricky. I wasn't worried, exactly, as Visas had assured me all would be well. But I didn't blame Stefan for his concerns.

"Blooming," I said with a smile. "Cranky," I added, twinkling my eyes at him.

"Sounds like our Jennet," Stefan grinned. "Would it be out of bounds to visit her? I'm rather assuming Revan is staying at the house."

"You would assume correctly," I agreed. "But no, it's fine; I expect Jolee and Ju'hani will wish to visit Revan privately, before the official meeting begins. I can hardly dictate you stay away, as you're a personal friend of the Lady of the Mandoa. Not that I would," I assured him.

"I didn't think so," he chuckled. "But one must be polite in unusual circumstances. I am pleased you're home, though. I'm not at all certain I'm cut out for the politics of Chairman."

I looked at him consideringly, then asked casually, "And what would I have to do with that?"

He eyed me appraisingly, then smiled. "Perhaps nothing at all," he said easily. "But I hope I'm wrong."

"I see," I said, and added carefully, "The meeting will decide the direction the Order wishes to take."

"Indeed it will," Stefan agreed.

A few more words of meaningless conversation, and he departed, presumably to visit Jennet. Shortly after, another ship arrived, bearing four Jedi, none of which were known to me. One was a Twi'lek man, not terribly tall, but well built and possessing green skin of an attractive pale hue and luxuriously long Lekku. He was accompanied by a human female, dark-skinned and sharp-featured, with a pair of breathtaking gold eyes that missed nothing, yet held a serenity I could envy. A tall, thin almost to the point of gangliness, male human with large expressive brown eyes that reminded me of Jennet, and a shorter young man, pale complexioned with red hair brighter than Mira's completed the group.

I bowed respectfully, and they bowed back, and introductions were made. They knew who I was, of course, and were cordial enough, if seeming a little wary. It transpired that the Twi'lek was Master Gru, the woman Master Sharika, the tall brown-eyed man Master Timon, and the redhead Jarn, of Padawan rank, although his Master had been killed during the Jedi murders. Some small talk and pleasantries, and Disciple appeared discretely at my side, guiding the Jedi to their quarters.

The next group were three humans, all of which were Masters. Master Geru, a short white-haired gentleman with twinkling green eyes and jovial manner, but possessing an air of caged power, greeted me cordially and introduced his companions. Master Varna, a pretty woman who looked no older than seventeen but possessed wise gray eyes and thick black hair worn not unlike mine. She was nearly as tall as Mira and Visas, and carried an authority much older than her appearance. She greeted me with a grave formal bow and spoke very little. The third was another Twi'lek, this one female, with smooth pink skin and sensuously draped Lekku. Her headdress was also a Force amplifier, decorated with beautifully crafted crystal beads. She smiled at me kindly, brown eyes widening in appreciation as I greeted her in her native tongue, something that it appeared Master Gru had hardly registered. The women were Masters Celia and Rene, respectively. Visas ushered them to their quarters, and I turned to the next arrivals, who were emerging from a hangar.

I recognized Jolee at once, and dispensed with the formal bow accordingly, holding my hands out to the older man. He ignored the hands, sweeping me into a hard hug that took my breath away. I was fond of him, but hardly on spontaneous hugging level, and was a bit taken aback. I rallied at once, however, looking up into his twinkling brown eyes when he set me down.

"That was for finding Revan," he announced gruffly. "Thank you. Where is she?" he demanded, looking around much as Stefan had.

"In the Mandalore's house," I laughed. "And hello to you too."

"Ah, you'll forgive an old man for getting sentimental on occasion," he shrugged, grinning. "Or for forgetting my manners. Not that I have any," he added. "And don't you be telling tales of me getting soft, child."

"Never," I assured him. "Speaking of your lack of manners, this must be Ju'hani."

The Cathar woman was not tall, but sleek and slender, moving with the catlike grace of her people. Her smile was warm, though, the yellow eyes compassionate and wise. She took my hands and bowed over them.

"I am grateful to you for restoring us our friend," she said, her Galactic Basic speech charmingly accented. "I am in your debt. Please do not hesitate to ask if you are in need."

"No thanks are required," I said politely, smiling at her gently. "I am grateful for the friendship Revan has in you. You must be eager to see her," I said, with a pointed look at Jolee. He grinned back, unrepentant. "Mira can show you the way."

The tall redhead had arrived, along with Atton, who grabbed the luggage, tossing a greeting over his shoulder at the pair. I let Jolee and Ju'hani know where to find the apartment complex, with the promise of a guide when they wished to retire.

"Ah, the fiery Mira," I heard Jolee say by way of greeting as they walked away. "It's good to see you, little girl."

As Mira was a good six centimeters taller, I found this amusing. I heard Mira's bark of laughter as she responded with some caustic wit of her own, and smiled. I had about ten minutes to breathe before the next ship arrived, and during it reflected that while I was friendly with half the surviving Jedi, my Padawan knew them all. I cursed my shortsightedness and when Bao Dur strolled up, instructed him to make sure that I have Disciple with me for the rest of the welcoming. This way, he could introduce everyone, rather than having me stumble over it. I thought I had done well enough so far, but was irritated I hadn't thought of that sooner.

"Take it easy, General," Bao Dur said soothingly. "You're doing fine. Master Gru even commented to me on your exquisite manners."

"He did, hm?" I smiled. "Is my nervousness so apparent?"

"Not to him, no," the Iridonian grinned. "Only to your Padawan. You've been buzzing in my head most of the day."

"Wonderful," I groaned. "Forgive me if I give you a headache."

"It's no trouble," he assured me. "But I've never seen you so keyed up before."

I eyed him, wondering how answer. "It's just…Revan was serious about nominating me Chairman, and I simply can't see how I'd be any better than most of the Jedi arriving. They have far more experience in the Order than me. I haven't even been formally involved for over fifteen years. What do I know about it?"

I was grateful he was here, and that I could speak to him like this. He'd been my rock during the war, however far apart in rank we'd been, or how little he'd realized it. Later, he'd served as my unofficial XO during the mission. I relied on him to keep me sane, and back me up in my role as leader, but also, to tell me when I was wrong. He'd done that very well, even when he was a lieutenant. I'd seen to it he was promoted regularly, and he had just made major a month before Malachor. Now, he looked at me sideways, the way he always does when he's about to gently blister my hide.

"You are a leader, pure and simple," he said quietly. "And the Order doesn't need things to be the way they were. It needs an overhaul. You should know that."

It was the 'should' that got me. He was right, and I was being silly. I nodded to him.

"Thanks," I said simply.

"Anytime," he said, and turned to face the next arrivals.

There were three of them, all men, all Masters. I bowed, and allowed Bao Dur to introduce us.

"Masters," he said in his soft voice, bowing respectfully. "May I introduce you to my Master, Ladria Windbreak. Master, may I present Master Windor, Master Jerrel, and Master Quazt."

Master Windor was about my age, not quite as tall as Atton, and handsome with dark brown hair and startling ice blue eyes. But their expression was warm, and he kissed my hand when I offered it to shake.

"I had not realized the Exile was such a beautiful woman," he said charmingly. "I've seen holos, of course, but none do you justice."

"Thank you," I said with my best dismissive smile.

He was technically correct by calling me Exile, I supposed, but it was an odd combination of admiring and rude and it made me uneasy. I felt a slight hum of protective alarm from Bao Dur, and sent back a soothing energy of my own. I wasn't sure what to make of Windor, and decided to watch him closely. To cover any confusion, I turned to Master Jerrel.

He was a good deal older, a half a head shorter, but strong and compact and his black hair was only lightly sprinkled with gray. He had dark eyes, nearly black, with wildly busy eyebrows that met over the bridge of his nose. His features, however, were nearly delicate, fine-boned with a slender nose that escaped being sharp by the merest millimeter of width. It was an interesting face, one that you would expect to house a stern personality, but his eyes twinkled merrily and his mouth was smiling widely.

"I'm certain you don't remember me, my dear," he said in a pleasant tenor voice, "but I certainly remember you. Such a clever student, and brilliant in healing. So young to make Master, and wise beyond your years."

"You flatter me, Master Jerrel," I smiled, "and I'm ashamed that you are right; I cannot remember the pleasure of meeting you before. Please tell me you weren't one of my more prominent teachers, or I'll be forced to believe I've succumbed to early senility."

"Oh, no," he waved off my fears with an expansive gesture. "I was an observer during your Trials for Master. I had the distinct honor of being allowed to endorse your candidacy."

"Some would not agree it was an honor," Master Quazt interjected smoothly. I saw Bao Dur stiffen out of the corner of my eye.

I turned to him and gave him my best diplomatic face. "I'm certain you are right, Master Quazt." I said simply. "Perhaps this meeting will settle the question."

Quazt was medium height, medium build, with clear gray eyes and gray hair that had probably once been a sandy brown. He was even featured, of average looks, but had a surprisingly deep, rich voice, his one distinction. Besides his possibly unpleasant personality. I gave him the benefit of the doubt, however. My exile was over ten years ago, and even I agreed to the Council's reasons. I can't expect everyone to simply accept I was back in the fold.

So I smiled, and Bao Dur led them to their apartments. Disciple hurried up just as the last Jedi landed.

"I apologize, Master," he said a little breathlessly. He'd obviously run most of the way from the apartment complex. "I should have thought to stay with you and ease the introductions."

"If I didn't, why should you?" I asked reasonably. "Don't apologize."

"A good Padawan should anticipate his Master's needs," Disciple insisted.

Oh, dear. I recalled that Bao Dur had said a similar thing to me during our time on Nar Shadaa, in an entirely different context. For that matter, Atton was my Padawan too, and he certainly anticipated _many_ of my needs. I fought a horrid urge to start giggling hysterically, especially when Disciple, completely innocent of my inappropriate train of thought, added "I shall apply myself harder in the future."

I could only be thankful Revan wasn't present. Or Jennet. Or, for that matter, Mira.

Finding my cloak of calm, I faced my Padawan serenely. "You are an excellent Padawan, Mical. Don't sell yourself short. I couldn't do without you."

Take that, ladies.

Fortunately, the final guest was approaching, and I turned my attention to him. He was very tall, topping Canderous' height, and I had to adjust my angle to see his face. His hair was nearly the color of my own, a dark red, a few shades darker so it was nearly brown, but it shone fiery bright under the Dxun sun. He had a ruggedly handsome face, and unusual eyes, one blue, one green, which I noticed when he bowed lower than usual in greeting. He was perhaps ten years my senior, and Disciple smoothly introduced him as Master Renault.

"Welcome," I said, smiling warmly.

He responded with "Thank you, Master Ladria," in a beautifully modulated deep voice that ought to be illegal.

"You are the last arrival," I said brightly. "There will be an informal gathering this evening at six. My Padawan will show you to your apartment. I hope you will be comfortable."

"I'm certain I will," he agreed, and allowed Disciple to escort him to his rooms.

Of all I had met, he was the most difficult to read. I'd checked his aura, and he was shining very bright; no problem there. He certainly seemed pleasant, and in no way hostile. But…I could get _nothing_ else. It intrigued me; was this what most Jedi perceived from me? How odd. It certainly explained a lot.

I had three hours before the gathering, and wanted to spend it among friends. I had a feeling I would need their support. I commed Bao Dur, instructing him and my other Padawan to be on hand if any of the guests needed anything. It would deprive me of Atton's company for a while, but right now I needed a good dose of Annie. I smiled at the thought and made my way to the Mandalore's house.


	16. Orders and Predictions

"I swear, if you don't stop pacing, my first act as your Padawan is going to involve applying my lightsaber to your head," Jennet groused, watching Revan stalk back and forth across the room. "Unlit, of course, but I have great aim."

Revan halted her endless prowling from window to couch to the built-in wet bar in the corner of the common room somewhere between it and the window. She looked at Jennet and tried to scowl, but it came out as more a wry smile.

"You don't have your lightsabers with you," she pointed out.

"An oversight I'm willing to correct," Jennet said sweetly. "Meanwhile, I throw a mean…" she cast about for a suitable object, "…um…lamp?"

"It's built into the table," Revan said, laughing. "But I surrender." She crossed the room and sat across from Jennet. "Sorry to annoy you."

"I'm just envious," Jennet said, giving her a small grimace. "I walk a lot; it's about the only exercise I'm allowed lately. I wish I could move as easily as you again," she patted her belly, and Revan saw the contents shift. She stared at the movement, fascinated, and Jennet smiled. "It's okay, you can touch it."

"No," Revan said automatically, drawing back a little. "I wouldn't like to intrude."

"Oh, don't be silly," Jennet said crisply. "Come here."

To her surprise, Revan did, a little shyly.

_Interesting,_ she thought, bemused. _I wouldn't have thought 'shy' was in her makeup._

_Revan's?_ Canderous' thought came to her and she smiled to herself. He was listening in, even though he had to be busy at the construction site. Carth, Dustil, and Mission were with him. _Not usually, no. But I expect she's a bit wary of you._

_I know; you've explained, _Jennet answered. _And unless she kisses you again, she has nothing to worry about with me._ _But I don't need to tell her that right away._

_You're a devious woman, Wildcat, _came the amused reply.

_I learned from the best, _Jennet said brightly. _Go away now, ti kar'ta, we're having a girl bonding moment._

_Gods save me from females, _was his parting shot as Jennet felt him draw back enough to give her privacy.

The exchange took only a few seconds, but Revan saw the slight change in Jennet's face and asked curiously, "Talking to Canderous?"

"Yes," she said simply. "Here, give me your hand."

Revan obligingly put out her hand, and Jennet set it against the top of her rounded stomach. She felt a shifting, and the mound rippled a bit.

"Push," Jennet invited, and Revan did so, cautiously, and was rewarded with a firm push back.

"That's amazing." She looked up, eyes wide.

"Not as much when it's your bladder being pummeled," Jennet said dryly. "But yeah, I don't really get tired of this. If you watch, you can tell what parts are swimming by."

Revan laughed, and sat on the floor. Her face was just about level with Jennet's midsection, and after a minute or two, she did see what looked like the curve of a tiny knee roll by near the top of Jennet's mound. The other woman had helpfully hiked her tunic up so her bare belly was mostly displayed.

"Does it hurt?" Revan asked.

"It's damned uncomfortable at times," Jennet said frankly. "But hurt, no. This first time I felt her move, that I knew for certain it was the baby, was amazing. A little flutter, like gas, but I knew it was Helen. I woke Canderous up and everything. He couldn't feel a thing, of course, not physically. But I could share it mentally. I think he's getting a much more detailed education in female biology than he bargained for," she said with a giggle.

Revan laughed back, and the two women shared their first real moment of understanding.

_This might work, after all, _Jennet thought.

_Told you so, cyar'ika, _Canderous taunted.

_Oh shut up. Don't you have a war to prepare for, or something?_ She heard his chuckle in her head as he drifted away again.

"That must be strange," Revan observed, seeing the momentary stillness in Jennet.

"Not anymore," Jennet said softly. "It was a real shock when it started, though. Now…I can't imagine not having Canderous in my head."

"He loves you a great deal," Revan said quietly. "I'm very happy for him…both of you."

"Thank you," Jennet smiled. "I'm happy for you and Carth, too. I like him enormously, and Canderous does too. It's nice to see him happy."

"Thanks," the older woman gave Jennet a warm look, and stood up, walking to the bar again. "Water?"

"Please," Jennet said gratefully. "Just don't start pacing again."

"You could join me," Revan grinned.

"Not the way my back is at the moment," Jennet grumbled.

Revan handed Jennet her glass, and she drank thirstily. When the other woman had set the glass down, she ordered, "Stand up."

"Huh?" the blonde woman looked at her blankly.

"Just stand a minute."

"Okay," Jennet lumbered to her feet, and Revan turned her around so she was behind the smaller woman. Putting one hand on Jennet's shoulder, she used the knuckles of her right hand to dig at the base of the spine, pushing hard until the cluster of nerves tightening the muscles released. Jennet groaned in pleasure and stood straighter.

"That's fabulous," she said in surprise. "How did you do that?"

"Pressure point," Revan said modestly. "I'll show Canderous, if you like."

"Please do," Jennet begged. "This is the first time in days I could touch my toes if I wanted. Well…if I could find them," she added ruefully, glancing down where she was certain her feet resided. "Do you rub feet, too?"

"Only for my Padawan," Revan laughed. "Sit down and get those boots off. How in the galaxy do you manage to get them on?"

"Canderous helps," Jennet admitted. "They're the most comfortable footgear I own. I know I ought to start wearing something easier to manage, but anything else gives me blisters when I walk in them too long. I could heal that, but it's not fun in the first place, and my healing is slowed down a lot. And I can't stand to sit still for any length of time, if I can help it. Drives the honor guard insane, I expect, following me around endlessly. I think they draw straws to see who gets stuck with me for the day."

Revan had drawn both boots off as Jennet spoke, and was firmly kneading the slightly swollen foot currently residing in her lap. Jennet groaned in bliss, leaning back against the back of her chair and closing her eyes.

"You can stop that about six weeks from now," she said gratefully. "By then Helen will be here, and my feet will be their normal size again."

"Just think of how strong my hands will be by then," Revan joked. "I'd be able to break a brick with one squeeze." After giving the left foot a lengthy massage, she switched to the right, and Jennet sighed in appreciation.

"I take back every doubt I had about you," she said feverently. "I'm glad to be your Padawan." She opened her eyes, looking at Revan guiltily. "I'm sorry; I suffer from perpetual foot-in-mouth syndrome. I didn't mean that."

"You did, but that's okay," Revan said comfortably. "I have a past, after all. I expect you've heard most of it."

"Yes," Jennet said simply. "But your past doesn't apply now. You have a really interesting aura, but it's almost as bright as Ladria's. And hers impressed the hell out of me. So I say again: I apologize."

"Forgiven," Revan smiled. "You have a wonderful aura; I was amazed when I saw it."

"Thanks," Jennet shrugged dismissively. "I guess the Force doesn't count times I wanted to throttle someone, and didn't. Among other sins," she grinned.

"Lucky for us," Revan said solemnly, and they broke into giggles.

It was there Stefan found them, giggling like schoolgirls. The handsome Jedi strode into the room unannounced, having the codes to enter the estate unchallenged, and Jennet had dismissed the honor guard with the promise she'd alert them if she wanted to leave the house. Megari and Lorna were busy in the kitchen, planning the menus for the Jedi meeting. Spotting him, Jennet squealed in welcome, launching herself at her honorary uncle with surprising speed for her current bulk. Laughing, he caught his niece with practiced ease, swinging her up in a warm hug before carefully depositing her a little distance from him. Revan watched from her seat on the floor, a small smile on her face.

"Jennet, darling, you are positively glowing," Stefan said, touching her face briefly, and kissing her forehead. "How is Helen?"

"Huge," Jennet said, grinning from ear to ear. "And active." She grabbed his hand and pressed it against her stomach, and he smiled at the immediate kick.

"What a strong little lady," he said, on the edge of a croon. "Hello, Helen."

Revan stood, and the movement caught his attention. He looked at her a moment, and gave her a singularly sweet smile. Jennet looked between them and crossed over to her Master.

"I think you know my guest," she said with a smile, and Stefan bowed formally. Revan bowed gracefully back.

"Master Revan," he said, straightening and moving forward, hand outstretched. "It's a pleasure to see you again."

"And you, Master Stefan," Revan murmured, accepting the hand in a firm clasp.

"Ladria told me you were hiding out here until the Order is assembled," he said charmingly. "Allow me to be the first to welcome you home."

"Perhaps not the first," she said warmly, "but one of the most appreciated. You've provided a good deal of support to both Ladria and me."

"The least I could do," he said graciously. "May I be deplorably intrusive and ask what your plans are?"

"I have much to report to the Council," Revan said soberly. "Followed by a nomination for Chairman, shortly followed by Jennet's introduction to the Order."

"That," he said with a surprised look at Jennet, "is excellent news. And may I assume your nomination for Chairman is not yourself?" Stefan asked.

"You may," Revan replied.

"I would approve you, of course," he said smoothly. "I think you would serve that function admirably. However, I believe who you have in mind would surpass either of us in that role."

"If you mean Ladria, I agree," Revan said, cutting to the chase. "She would make an ideal Chairman."

"You read my mind," Stefan agreed. "And how will this come about?"

"As long as you are in support of it, leave the rest to me," she answered cryptically. "Simply call me as the first order of business."

"It might help if I have more to go on," he said seriously.

"No, it wouldn't," Revan said firmly. "I want no suspicion of conspiracy or coercion."

"As you wish," Stefan shrugged, and turned back to his niece. "So, are you absolutely set on Helen? Don't you think Stefanie would be much better?"

Jennet elbowed her uncle, grinning. "You've asked me a hundred times, and I've turned it down every time. Get married and have your own kids so you can name them after yourself."

"If Ladria becomes Chairman and gets some changes put into effect, I could do just that," Stefan laughed. "I'm a bit old for it, though."

"You'll never be old," Jennet said fondly. "Ever."

"Thank you for your faith in me, my dear," he kissed her cheek. "You and your friends keep me young."

"Along with your two-year-old mentality," retorted his niece. "Which is part of the reason Danni adores you; she has a playmate her own age."

"Now, that cuts me to the quick," Stefan protested. "Danni looks up to me."

"Danni looks up to everyone," Jennet giggled. "Even me."

"Not for much longer," Revan interjected. "She looks like she'll outgrow most of the women in her extended family. She's very tall for a four-year-old, I think. Not that I have a lot of experience with small children," she added ruefully.

"Is anyone hungry?" Jennet changed the subject. "Because I'm starved."

"Let me go get you something," Stefan guided her to a chair and tugged on her arm until she capitulated and sat. "You rest."

"I'm pregnant, not helpless or ill," Jennet grumbled. "I can wheedle Lorna for a mid-day snack all by myself."

"But then I'd be deprived of her and Megari's charming company," Stefan said smoothly. "I'll be back soon."

Revan regarded Jennet with amusement as the younger woman scowled to herself. "I think you and I are much alike," she said with a trace of a chuckle. "If I ever am lucky enough to have children, the coddling people insist on giving a pregnant woman will drive me wild, too."

"I don't mind it, really," Jennet protested. "It's just…I'm normally very active, and everyone seems to think the slightest strain will harm me or Helen. I spend more energy trying to prove otherwise than I would if they just let me be. I'm not an idiot, I won't go into full fight mode lugging around a baby."

"How often do you practice with your 'sabers?" Revan asked casually, and Jennet looked at her guiltily.

"You won't tell anyone?" she asked quietly.

"I'm willing to bet Canderous already knows you still train," Revan answered softly. "And he knows you wouldn't push too hard."

"He does," Jennet nodded. "And I don't practice full speed anymore, or with the 'sabers very often. Mostly with my spinning blades, and at about half speed. I can't lose my reflexes. And I get in about an hour or so a day of throwing; I'm still accurate."

Dax came in to the room, and the women looked over at the tall Champion.

"Master Jedi Jolee Bindo and Master Jedi Ju'hani are here to visit Master Revan," he said in his pleasant deep voice. "And my Lady."

"Thank you, Dax," Jennet smiled. "Let them in, of course."

He was immediately pushed aside as Jolee elbowed past, rushing into the room to swoop down on Revan and whirl her into a bone-crushing hug. Revan was laughingly protesting, and hugged him back, hard.

"It's good to see you, old friend," she said when he'd put her down. His warm brown eyes were twinkling at her.

"You don't look a day older," he marveled. "But you're too skinny, little girl."

"Lorna's good cooking will cure that soon enough," she answered, and turned to the Cathar woman, ignoring her outstretched hands and embracing her.

"Beautiful as ever," Revan said, smiling warmly. "I've missed you, Ju'hani."

"And I you," she said simply, looking close to tears. "I was worried."

"Well, here I am, safe and sound," Revan said in practical tones. "I promised I'd return."

Stefan came in then, bearing a tray with enough food to feed an army. "Well, I have enough for Jennet," he announced, looking around the room. Jennet scowled good-naturedly, and immediately started filling a plate when he set the tray down. "Perhaps Lorna could be induced to whip up some more for the newcomers."

I was pleased to see Annie and Jennet on much more cordial terms when I arrived back at the Mandalore's estate. Stefan, Jolee, and Ju'hani had joined the two women, enjoying Lorna's refreshments and each other's company. I gratefully accepted a glass of wine and sat, sipping and listening to the conversation.

"Well, it's an interesting bunch," I said thoughtfully when questioned by Revan about the remaining Jedi. "There are at least two I don't think approve of me in particular, and possibly you either. But I think we'll enjoy support from the majority."

"Who were they?" Revan asked in between sips of wine.

"Master Quatz doesn't seem to approve of me at all," I answered. "Master Varna said not two words beyond greetings, and Master Windor thinks he's charming but is rather rude at the same time. The last to arrive, Master Renault, I couldn't get any sort of real reading off, but he didn't seem hostile, at least."

"I remember Quatz," Revan said with a snort. "Stodgy windbag. Windor thinks himself the charmer, but likes to sit on the fence until he's sure which side will win. Master Varna, I don't know at all."

"She seemed cordial enough," I reported. "Just quiet. I'm hoping she's simply sizing me up."

"Could be," Revan nodded. "It will be fine," she soothed, and I felt myself relax visibly.

"I know," I said softly. "But I can't help but wonder if you're wrong, Annie. You really ought to be in charge of the Order, not me."

"I will be, sort of," she said with a smile. "Just follow my lead, all right? Trust me."

"You know I do," I said promptly. "But it would help if I know what you planned. And if I _am_ going to be Chairman, I won't always agree with you. I won't run it as a titular head, you know that."

"I wouldn't expect you to," Revan laughed. "I really don't want to be Chairman, and really do think you'll be much better than me. And it's not like you've ever blindly followed anyone, let alone me. I'm relieved to say you're an extremely poor political puppet, Dree."

"Thank you," I said dryly.

That evening's informal gathering went very smoothly, in part to Stefan's expert hosting skills, a good dose of Mandalorian ale, and the appearance of Revan, gliding through the crowd, with a word for everyone. I was kept busy as well; everyone wanted to speak to me about the meeting and sound out my opinion of the direction the Order should take, comment about Revan, my Padawan, the impact of the ongoing Sith war. I smiled, and answered honestly, if often vaguely; I didn't want to tackle the more complicated subjects until we were officially in debate. No point in losing steam early in the game.

I watched my Padawan with pride; each and every one of them was at ease, chatting with various members of the Order, behaving with the perfect mix of respect for their superiors in rank, but the inherent equality of every Jedi. Carth, Mission, Dustil, Canderous, and Jennet were also present, circulating among the crowd. Canderous tended to be very quiet, mostly hovering by Jennet, ready to assist her in any way. The overall mood of the gathering was cautious cordiality, and I was pleased.

At last the day of the meeting arrived, and I was a nervous wreck. Bao Dur had bolstered me beautifully during arrivals, and I grimly hung on to that support; not even Atton could soothe me this morning. Not that he didn't try, or that I didn't appreciate his efforts. And he did succeed in making me forget my apprehension for a good hour or so. I woke to light tingling kisses and his sure touch in the early hours and spent a blissful time reveling in his attentions. Drifting down some time later, reality reared its head and I grew quiet and apprehensive.

"You're nervous about the meeting," Atton said, holding me close. It wasn't a question.

"Yes. Am I that obvious?" I asked ruefully. I didn't expect to hide anything from him, but I hoped I had at least enough control to pass as calm to anyone else.

"Only to me," he said, running a hand down my arm and kissing my forehead. "Possibly the rest of your Padawan might notice some anxiety; certainly Revan will, if she hasn't felt it already. Can you tell her state of mind?"

I concentrated, and hastily cut off the connection, blushing. "At the moment, she's not worried about anything," I said truthfully.

Atton smiled with amusement. "Well, then neither should you. Shall I provide some more distraction?"

His kiss was slow and gentle and so immediate and tender that all tension and worries melted away. It was a long time before we made it out of bed, and I was grateful he'd woken me so early.

I made myself eat, even though I lacked anything resembling an appetite. We showered, dressed in our best robes, and made our way to the meeting hall. I had made certain we would be the first to arrive, wanting to check over everything myself before the meeting began. The podium was in place, the tables arranged properly, water jugs and glasses and refreshment table set up and ready to go. Bao Dur and Disciple entered, both carrying full jugs of water, followed closely by Visas and Mira. Atton grinned at Mira's pointed look and disappeared into the kitchen area to fetch another couple of jugs.

"We're just finishing up, Master," Disciple said quietly. "We're providing water at intervals along the tables, and the refreshments are ready to place out."

"Master Stefan mentioned he wanted to have you be acting scribe, as I had suggested yesterday," I said with a smile. "Make sure you're prepared."

I turned to the rest of my Padawan as they finished setting out the water jugs and gathered to me. Atton stood a little apart, leaning against a support beam, arms crossed and a slight smile on his face. The rest all looked slightly anxious and I smiled gently.

"I know you've all felt my nervousness today, and I apologize," I began, and held up a hand to the murmurs of protest. "No, let me finish. Today, I think, is going to be a very important day for the Order. At the end of it, if all goes well, we'll have a new Chairman, and hopefully be on our way to some real changes. I know you all are in support of me being elected. I'm prepared to do what is best for the Order and serve to the utmost of my ability if granted that position. But please remember; your first loyalty should be to the Order, not me. If I am not elected, I may leave the Order, if the changes I hope for are not made. I cannot and _will_ not encourage you one way or another if that becomes the case."

"General," Bao Dur said in his soft clear voice, "if you or Revan is not elected, and the Order refuses to change its laws, has it occurred to you to form your _own_ Order?"

I stared at him, utterly surprised. "Well, that's a hell of an idea," I said, smiling. "But I'm hoping it won't come to that."

"I doubt it will," Visas said serenely.

"Have you Seen anything?" I asked.

"Not…precisely," she said quietly. "I only have the sense of great change."

"Well, that's something," Mira said with a grin, mirrored by Atton's.

"It certainly is," Revan said cheerfully, striding into the room. "Great pep talk, Dree." She flashed me a sardonic smile.

"Thanks," I said dryly.

"It wasn't gloom and doom, so I won't criticize," she continued, looking over the rest of the group. "But I'm asking all of you – don't show anxiety, and be alert. Leave the Order to me, and all will be well. I promise you."

We took our places then, and shortly the remaining Order members filed in, chatting quietly in various groups. Master Jerrel immediately strode over to me, bowed gracefully in greeting and took my hands.

"Good morning, my dear," he said with a wide smile. "I see all is in readiness. I must compliment you on the arrangements; I spent a most comfortable night, and this hall is ideal."

"I thank you for your kindness, Master Jerrel," I said modestly.

"Not at all. I see everyone is assembled, and right on schedule. This will be a most interesting morning." He released my hands and smoothly backed away, turning to take his seat. I nodded or bowed to various members and found my own place at the end of one long side, next to Revan. I saw all the Padawan seated across the way, Jarn nearest the head table, Jolee next to him, with Bao Dur, Atton, Disciple, Visas, and Mira from there.

The tables had been set in a large triangle, seven seated on each side. In the middle of the head table, Master Stefan sat with a low podium placed on the table in front of him. Masters Jerrel and Quatz flanked him, with Masters Gru and Celia on Jerrel's side, Masters Sharika and Rene on the other side. My table, in addition to Revan and myself, consisted of Masters Timon, Windor, and Renault, with me the furthest from the head table. Disciple had been very careful in setting the participants in order of seniority. I was technically the senior Master present at my table, but as my position in the Order was in question, I was last. I had done this deliberately; it was a point certain to be brought forward. Revan had been made Master just before her last mission for the Order, and was the least senior, barring Padawan.

A taller floor podium was positioned about a meter from the apex of the triangle, so that the speaker would face directly across from the Chairman. When everyone was seated, Stefan tapped a small gavel, signaling the meeting to order. The low hum of conversation immediately stopped, and all eyes turned expectantly to the Chairman.

"I want to thank you all for so willingly accommodating my request for the change of location for this meeting," he began, his pleasant voice quiet but carrying. "These are difficult times for our Order, and flexibility is required to pull us through. I am saddened at our losses, and seeing so few faces present. Let us take a moment of silence in remembrance of our brethren lost."

We bowed our heads and I silently sent a prayer to the Force for all the missing and dead, feeling tears prickle in my throat. Beside me, I could feel similar emotions from Revan, and the solemn prayers of my Padawan. But my eyes were dry when Stefan again addressed the Order.

"May the Force be with them," he said, and the words were echoed gravely back. "For our first order of business, I know everyone is pleased to welcome back Master Revan. She has completed a most difficult and dangerous mission, and we are gladdened by her return to the Order. Master Revan?"

Annie stood, bowing to Stefan, and strode to the podium amid a mixture of polite and enthusiastic applause. She drew a datapad from her robes, and faced the Chairman. All heads turned to watch her, some with remotely polite expressions, some with unabashed curiosity, and some with genuine smiles of welcome. I took note as swiftly as possible of everyone's expression. Jarn, unsurprisingly, was one of the curious; Jerrel looked delighted, Gru, remote. Windor was blankly polite, Quatz simply blank.

"Thank you, Chairman, for your welcome," Revan said in her stage voice, which could gain the attention and respect of a cranky Hutt if she chose. "I am very pleased to be back among my people."

This was the plain truth, although I knew she didn't necessarily mean the Order. I hid a smile and paid close attention. Annie had something up her sleeve, and I wanted to be prepared when she sprang it.

"There are many issues that need to be discussed in the next few days, and I am certain everyone is eager to come to find some resolution to them. Rest assured that I am as eager as any of the Order to find some stability in these troubled times. If you will all indulge me for a few minutes, I would like to tell you a story."

I felt more than saw everyone lean forward at this, and the hopeful air that Revan would reveal the extent and findings of her mission. I, however, was certain that was not what she was about to do. Damn Annie and her drama.

"I have here," she held up the datapad, "information I gained undercover in the Unknown Regions, where, on the Council's orders, I gained position as a Lord on a remote but important base deep in Sith territory. There was a holocron, closely guarded and kept so secret that none but the highest circle of Sith society knew of it. I managed to gain access and download its information."

Master Jerrel stood. "Is this data information that can help us defeat the Sith?" he asked in ringing tones.

"Perhaps," Revan acknowledged. "I believe it does. But it is not schematics or military strategy that was contained in the holocron. It is a prophecy."

A murmur of shock rippled through the Jedi, and Stefan tapped his gavel.

"Quiet, please," he said, and the muttering died. "Master Revan, I am intrigued. Please explain why you believe this will help us."

"Gladly, Chairman," Revan smiled. "This prophecy was made many thousands of years ago by the Seer Cassandria, a Jedi who was a revered member of the Order. I'm certain most of you have heard of her."

"A legend," Master Quatz said, rising to his feet. "The records show she did exist, but hold no proof of her skill as a Seer."

Disciple stood, bowing respectfully to Quatz. "Forgive me, Master Quatz, but my research has supported not only the existence of Cassandria, but many records of her prophecies, nearly all of which have come to pass. She predicted the rise of Exar Kun, among others."

"Prophecy is not an exact science," Quatz said dismissively. "Our own ability to occasionally see the future is only what _may_ be. The Force is rarely straightforward in such matters, and the words of a Seer can often be applied to many situations."

Visas joined Disciple, standing with a fluid grace and bowing in the same motion. "This Council has validated my ability as Seer on more than one occasion," she said in her quiet voice. "I would submit that Cassandria was known to my people, and revered as a Seer of unusual talent."

"This is noted," Stefan said nodding. He turned to Quatz. "Do you have a formal objection?"

"None at this time," Quatz replied tightly, and sat. Disciple and Visas followed suit.

Revan waited patiently through this exchange, and smiled when all eyes were upon her again.

"Upon my return, I combed what Jedi records remain, with the help of the historian known as Disciple." She nodded to the blonde Jedi, who smiled back. "This same prophecy was found, but incomplete, in those records. Let me read it for you, as I found it."

The room was so quiet you could hear the faint hum of the energy cells embedded in the foundation. All attention was on Annie, and I found myself holding my breath. I let it out slowly, fixing my gaze on my friend.

"The Dark ones shall rise, awakening from the power of the star of creation." Her voice was straightforward, lacking dramatic inflection, but its very ordinariness compelled one to listen. "The one whose name twists darkness will rise, and lead, fall, and lead from the shadows. This warrior will end war, begin war, inspire the purge of the mighty. Evil will be bound and subverted, and only then will its true nature be revealed: when its name is restored, and Light dispels the shadows."

There was utter stillness, and Revan glanced around. She met my eyes, and I stared back, the words she had spoken hanging between us like smoke.

"The warrior will return to the Shadowlands with vows renewed, to gather words of power and prophecy," she continued. "These will guide the faithful, when their number is half a score and four. The mantle will be carried by the pure of spirit, who looked upon darkness and spurned its seductive chant. The lost will return when this young Master arises, who will walk a lonely path, exiled from the faithful, deafened to the power of the Force. Restored to power by an enemy's faith, the Master shall call true Jedi, and they will follow, bound, yet free. And when these are known: the builder, the dreamer, the seer, the hunter, and the soul of the Master, who have battled demons and emerged victorious, the Jedi will rise again."

Revan paused, and I fought to keep my face still. Every eye in the room was riveted on her, and she smiled her cat's smile. Her voice was almost dreamy when she continued.

"The Jedi who knew the Dark, and helmed a nation, will restore the order of the faithful. Their closest companion will carry out their vision, and lead her people into the unknown. The Lady warrior who heals with a thought, raised with a shared ideal, and a soldier who danced with ancient enemies, will join in the battle for balance. And the wound in the Force that was healed will scar no more."

The complete silence as she finished was throbbing with tension and unasked questions. I found it difficult not to burst out with the million thoughts that were seething through my brain. Revan calmly looked around the faces of the Order, that half smile sill curving her lips.

"Any questions?" she asked sweetly.


	17. In the Face of Fate

Author's note: It was brought to my attention that I have thus far ignored the rank of Knight within the Jedi Order. I assure you it was completely out of ignorance. I love Star Wars, but have never delved much into the realm of fandom and the books, so I am somewhat spotty in my knowlege of the workings of the Council and Order. For this, I apologize. I have addressed the issue a bit in this chapter, and may some time revise my story to incorporate my knew knowledge. When Atton and the other Padawan of Ladria's graduate, it will be to the rank of Knight, as it should be. I do expect, however, they will progress to Master rather quickly.

I just finished this chapter minutes ago; I hope it reads well. I didn't want to keep anyone waiting too long :0) I don't know exactly when I'll be able to update again; hopefully within a week. I hit a bit of a bump in the story and had to get some kinks out of it mentally...but Ladria finally told me what she was planning, at least for the Jedi meeting. I still have family here and my work hours have increased, so finding adequate time to write has been a challenge. And I took a day out to read the last Harry Potter book, so sue me. I noticed no one's reviewed my story in the last three days (or longer...but who's counting?) and suspect many of my loyal readers took a bit of Harry time, too. You GO, guys!

Please keep the reviews coming; it helps the muse immensely. Thank you all for your support and comments and for simply taking the time to read this little flight of fandom fancy (I do love a good alliteration!).

Always, LJ

* * *

The storm of voices roaring through the hall hit like a tornado. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the table of Padawan looking back and forth between them in puzzlement, speaking in low tones, with the exception of Visas, who sat back in her chair with almost the same smile as Revan. The Masters at my table all jumped to their feet, loudly supporting or refuting interpretations as they were voiced from the head table. As for Annie, her gaze never wavered from mine. Perfectly aware of the impact of her presentation, not missing a single comment, she nonetheless concentrated on me, hazel eyes glowing with a golden green light, willing me to understand. Like a small creature paralyzed by the presence of a predator, I was unable to look away.

But it wasn't fear that froze me; it was the shock of understanding, and the effort to remain calm. To be the subject of prophecy is strange enough; and truthfully, if this was an accurate one, it touched on Revan more often than me. Judging by Visas' satisfied expression, I had to believe Cassandria's words were more than idle speculation. But to be told bluntly that your leadership would be essential to the rebuilding of the entire Jedi Order…overwhelming. Not to mention hearing the descriptions of the Padawan I had trained, and the Padawan to come. Jennet I understood, but the soldier? As Annie and I shared our silent communication, I slowly stood.

As if that were a signal, the babble of voices quieted, and all eyes turned to me. Giving Revan a brief nod, I tore my eyes from her gaze and looked at Visas, who had sat straight, calmly meeting my stare through her veil. The room was utterly still.

"Visas Marr," I said quietly, "As a Seer, what is your opinion of this prophecy Revan has discovered?"

She stood, looking around the tables, her veiled eyes more accurate than any I've known. She bowed her head in respect for the Jedi present, or Cassandria; I wasn't entirely certain. Likely both. Then her low throaty voice cut through the air like a 'saber.

"The truth of Cassandria's words vibrate in my soul," she said. "To a Seer, false prophecy will echo like a discordant instrument, no matter who the speaker. A true Seeing will create an energy that flows freely, with harmony. Even the uninitiated will feel it, if they search themselves."

There was a collective murmur as everyone absorbed this, and Stefan tapped his gavel again.

"Please be seated," he looked pointedly around the table, and everyone slowly sat.

Revan stayed behind the podium, gazing at nothing in particular, waiting for the hubbub to die down. When attention was back on her, she smiled again, and addressed the Chairman.

"I am no Seer, and have little ability to glimpse the shadows of the future myself. I merely found this prophecy, and have no talent for interpretation. It does, however, seem clear to me that I and Master Ladria are the primary subjects of this vision."

"'The one whose name twists darkness will rise, and lead, fall, and lead from the shadows'," Master Jerrel quoted, staring hard at Revan and rising to his feet. "Revan, if you exchange the vowels, becomes Raven; twisting darkness, indeed. You rose to prominence, or notoriety, and lead many Jedi to war against the Mandoa. That action ended the Mandalorian War. Then you were seduced to the Dark side, began a campaign against the Republic and the Order, with your followers subverting or executing many Jedi: 'end war, begin war, inspire the purge of the mighty'. Your capture subverted the darkness and robbed you of your memory, and when you recalled your true name, you remained in the Light."

"Yes," Revan said simply. "Except one point: I wasn't seduced by the Dark side. I chose it freely, and very consciously."

If the amazement that had swept the room at the prophecy was a tornado, this revelation was a supernova. I jerked visibly and felt my spine wrench straight, as if a bolt of lightening had shot through it. I stared at Annie, unwilling to believe her, but feeling the truth of her words in my very bones. Visas sat rigid, unsurprised yet in the grip of some unidentifiable emotion.

I flinched violently when a voice rang out, and through a sense of unreal detachment recognized it as my own. "And what of Malak? Did he choose darkness as well?" I demanded, my voice low but carrying to every corner of the room. The sane half of my brain was scrambling for my cloak of calm, desperately trying to cover my sudden sense of exposure. But an unfamiliar cold rage coursed through me, and my voice rose to a shout. My Padawan, used to my serenity, stared, open-mouthed. "Or did you think of him as collateral damage? And me? Was I simply a means to an end? What could possibly be your excuse for _any_ of this?"

_I was _there_ Annie, how could you not tell me? Was I so blind to your ambition?_

Revan faced me, her manner outwardly calm, but I saw the sudden tension in the set of her mouth. Her eyes were pleading with me, and some part of me was struggling to understand.

"There is no excuse," she said, her voice steady. "I was told the prophecy, before I rallied Jedi to follow me to fight the Mandalorians. In my arrogance, I thought it meant only me, and I would end the war, and that my fall was from the Order, not the Light. I only had the first four lines, and they seemed to fit. And between us, we ended the war."

"And Malak," I spat at her, and she flinched.

"And Malak," she agreed. "But…it wasn't over, I _knew_ there was an ancient evil out there, something that inspired the Mandalorians to provoke the Republic in the first place, something insidious and seductive and subtle. So I took what part of the fleet would follow me, and set out to find it. And along the way, I began to understand. Malak and I searched alone, if you remember," Annie was talking solely to me now, and I felt as if the rest of the Order had faded away. "That year you were with us, he and I would leave on our own, and we found two pieces of the Star Map before you left."

"Don't you mean ran away?" I asked bitterly. "I suppose that played havoc with your grand plan."

"No," Revan said sharply, every inch the General she had been, "it was what I wanted. I felt the pull of the Dark side early on, and resisted. But I poured over the prophecy, and realized after a time that the only way to defeat this evil was to _become_ it. Nothing else would be strong enough, or close enough. I thought Malak was strong enough to come back to the light when we'd found and defeated the Star Forge, although at the time I didn't know what it was we were seeking. To my eternal regret and sorrow, he was not."

"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked, my voice so quiet I was surprised she could hear me. But the room was so silent, so watchful, that it carried as if amplified.

"Because you would have stayed," she said simply, her hazel eyes soft and pleading. "I couldn't allow you to. _You _were the pure of spirit I couldn't destroy, or allow to be destroyed. Before I made my choice and gave in to the Dark side, I knew you would fight to the ends of the galaxy to redeem us. You were always our anchor, and both of us were bound to you; I couldn't, _wouldn't_ allow you to be dragged down by us. But you were blinded to the Force, and because of that, Malak disagreed with me," she said, and I flinched, going white.

"He chose it too? He knew the whole plan?" I asked, my voice low and venomous.

"Yes."

"So you both lied to me," I said, almost gently. "You kept me ignorant and broken, and hoped to use me for your own salvation." I was beyond anger now; I suddenly understood why Atton, and for that matter, Annie, became so calm when they reach a place past white hot rage. True, bone deep fury carries its own serenity.

"We were trying to protect you," Annie said. "And I couldn't bear to see you go where I must."

"I see."

I stared at her for a moment, my calm restored, but that cloak no longer fit. This time, it was not the well-worn comfortable garment that I slip into without thinking; it was stiff, unfamiliar, and rubbed in places I had thought were no longer raw. I was wrong. I tore my eyes from Annie's and turned to Stefan. Only then did I become aware again of the fascinated interest of the rest of the Order.

"Chairman," I called, "I request a recess in the proceedings."

Stefan nodded soberly. "Request granted. Meeting adjourned for three hours."

He tapped the gavel, and I faced the Order with my ill-fitting new cloak of false calm. It was a lie, like so many I was fed, and I felt my bile threatening to rise.

"There are refreshments available; my Padawan will see to your comfort. Excuse me," I bowed, and turned to leave the room. Unfortunately, that meant I had to walk by Revan, who put out a hand as I passed. I flinched away from her, yanking my arm away from her reach.

"Don't touch me, Annie," I said, surprised at how ordinary my voice was, and I got the hell out of there.

I had no idea where I was going when I left the meeting hall. Blindly, I followed my feet and found myself in Atton's apartment with no memory of getting there. I looked around, not recognizing anything, but took a breath and went into the bedroom, quickly changing from my dress robes into the oldest, most ragged breeches and tunic I could find. Hooking my 'saber to my belt, I did a quick scan and unearthed a vibroblade from a trunk in the corner. It was in a sheath that strapped to one's back; I slipped it on and made my way out of the building through a side door. I was somewhat surprised no one caught up to me, but I'd only been gone perhaps five minutes. It felt like an eternity.

Since my brain didn't seem to be functioning consciously, I let it choose my path again and eventually fetched up near the control center in the original part of the camp. I wondered if the Mandoa still had their battle circle here, and followed the sounds of fighting. Kex was nearby, watching the recruits practice, and I slipped up silently beside him.

"You still holding a grudge?" I asked solemnly, and he turned with a start to face me.

"You still breathing?" he asked, and grinned.

I had defeated him badly during my mission, before Jennet had healed his hands and knee. He had been bitter at the time, but when he'd regained his strength, became almost a different person, the exchange now a joke between us. He had maintained he wanted a rematch, but we had never seemed to find the time to do it. He regarded me now, eyes widening a little. I must not be hiding my emotions as well as I hoped.

"What's wrong, lass?" he asked carefully, raising an eyebrow at me. "You look like you _need_ a fight."

"I do," I said shortly. "I'll heal any damage; you game?"

"Always," he said promptly, and signaled the Sergeant.

We agreed on terms and faced off. I breathed carefully, using the moment to center myself and try and let go the rage that was still singing through my blood. It's never a good idea to fight when angry, though that isn't always controllable. I needed a good way to get this out of my system; not an excuse to kill an innocent bystander. I thought of accusing Annie of Malak being collateral damage, and felt a surge of bitterness mix with the rage. _Not_ good, but too late: Kex was already swinging his sword with deadly precision, and I smoothly stepped aside to let it pass. This put him slightly off balance, but he corrected quickly, I barely had time to give him a tap on the arm before he was centered and coming at me fast.

I let him get close, slipped sideways, and got in a good smack to his sword arm as he adjusted. Most would have paused; he stepped up his pace, and I was kept busy parrying. I looked up and saw the wild grin splitting his face and some of the rage I was battling abated. I grinned back and stepped closer, forcing him to retreat slightly as my blade came dangerously close to his throat. Then he unexpectedly whacked aside my sword, stepped forward, and punched me in the face with the hilt of his own. I staggered back, trying to ignore the explosion that was now my face, and desperately brought my own blade up to block the attack I knew was coming. I shook my head to clear the blood and tears that involuntarily leaked from my eyes, even as I blocked the pain.

I had calculated wrong; instead of going for a strike to the heart or throat, he went low, and I felt my knee give from the blow. Refusing to drop, I wrenched upright, and managed a solid hit to his left arm, but he countered by spinning away, swinging his sword over his head, and snapping it over mine. I felt a gong go off behind my eyes and nothing more.

I came to, bloodied and with a headache that rivaled any drunkard's hangover. Kex's face was hovering over mine, looking faintly worried.

"You all right, lass?" he asked, giving me a hand and hauling me upright. "Are you sure you were trying your best? I got you awfully quick."

"I was angry, and it showed," I said, swaying on my feet and getting my bearings. "But thanks, I needed that." I healed myself, and my surroundings went back to standing still instead of whirling around me like a demented carousel. I sent some to Kex too, for good measure, and he grinned at me.

"Well, if you want to get beat up again, you know where to find me," he said genially.

"That, I do," I agreed, and with a friendly nod I walked away, feeling a good deal better.

I wandered around and found myself sitting on the dock at the Mandalore's estate, my boots off and feet in the water. I was trying to meditate and not getting anywhere; my usual serenity was shattered and the pieces were floating mockingly behind my eyes. But the utter fury was gone, replaced by a deep sadness and confusion and sense of betrayal. Logically, I could understand what Annie had done, even be grateful she couldn't bring herself to corrupt me too. But my heart was bruised, and it didn't think logically at all.

I wasn't surprised to see Atton slowly approaching. I hadn't bothered to try and block him to my presence, but I had hoped that he might leave me be a while. What I _was_ surprised about was all four of my other Padawan were right behind him. That they cared, and loved me, I knew; Bao Dur at least would want to be on hand if I needed him. But the air of a united front they presented was remarkable, and a tiny bit of my hurt faded.

Atton looked me over carefully, and without a word kicked off his own boots and plunked down beside me. He was wise enough not to try and touch me yet; if he did, I'd probably start to cry and I wasn't sure when I could stop. I wasn't ready for that now. Then to my complete shock, everyone shed their footgear, even Visas, and ranged around me. Bao Dur sat on my left, as Atton was already on my right, Mira on the other side of him, with Visas and Disciple finding seats on the very end.

"Well," Bao Dur said thoughtfully as we sat companionably swishing our feet, "should we challenge Revan, or just take her out back and shoot her?"

"Just let us know, Master, and we're at your disposal," Disciple chimed in.

"I haven't kicked ass in at least a week," Mira said enthusiastically. "Can I have first shot?"

"I'd be happy to predict a painful, slow death by…" she seemed to grope for a word, but rallied, "…termites," Visas finished sweetly.

It was so unlike Visas to say anything of the sort, let alone joke about her talent that I started at her, my mouth open. Then I looked around the faces of my grinning friends, and humor won out. I started to laugh, and Atton put his arm around me, and I leaned on him, the shock of the last hour and a half draining out of me.

"I don't blame you for being as incredibly pissed off as I knew you were," he said in my ear. "I knew you needed a little time to cool off. Did you go to the fight ring?"

"How did you know?" I asked, surprised.

"Well, the dried blood on your, er, _my_ tunic gave me a clue," he said dryly. "And the fact that Kex mentioned he'd seen you. The meeting's cancelled for the day as well as the reception; we'll resume first thing tomorrow. Revan insisted on adjourning, and while everyone's panting to know the end of this drama, no one's willing to push either of you. I suggest you hide out on the Sphinx if you don't want a dozen casual drop bys tonight."

"I'll think about that," I said ruefully. "But I can't hide forever."

"No," Bao Dur agreed, touching my arm gently. "But you deserve a little time to sort things out."

"Maybe," I shrugged. "Does a leader hide when things get a little tough, though?"

"If they have the luxury to do that, why not?" Disciple asked serenely.

"Everyone needs time to themselves," Visas agreed.

"We'll run blocker," Mira added helpfully. "Especially if you want us to keep Master 'I Used to Be Ultimate Evil' away."

"I'm afraid you're a little late for that," Revan said, her voice amused.

We all jerked around, staring at the shore end of the dock. She had come up so quietly no one had heard her approach. A smile curved her lips, but sadness and pleading, so rare to see in Annie, were in her eyes. She stared at me, pain almost equal to my own in every line. I pulled my feet out of the cool lake, turning to face her, and my companions followed suit, drawing closer to group around me. Atton put a hand on my shoulder, and I felt Mira directly behind me, watching over the top of my head. Then to my amazement, Revan slowly walked to me, and knelt on the deck, head bowed. Hesitantly, she reached for my hand, and I was too stunned to draw away. She took it, kissing the back like a knight supplicating his lady.

"Dree," she said, and I was shocked to feel the wetness of tears on my skin. "There is nothing I can say that can erase what I did. I can't even say I wouldn't do it again, even knowing what it cost you…cost both of us. I wanted to save Malak, I really did. I didn't even save you; you did that yourself. By the time you left, I didn't want to be redeemed; I was too far gone. It took nearly killing me and burying my identity to bring me back. I can only regret that I hurt you. I'm so sorry."

She held my hand in a death grip, her tears gently raining down on the back of it. Atton's grip tightened on my shoulder, and I felt Bao Dur slip his arm around my waist. Mira had her hand on the opposite side of Atton, with Visas and Disciple leaning toward me, each reaching out to touch me, and I felt the strength of the closest people in my universe gently flowing through my aura.

"Why?" I asked hoarsely, my own sorrow thickening my speech. "Why did you spring this on me in front of the entire Order? Why didn't you tell me in the first place?"

"Because," Annie said in a broken whisper, "I couldn't bear for you to hate me as much as I deserved."

"But even so, you would use that to your advantage," I said, wanting to pull my hand away, but I couldn't summon the strength to do it. "You waited until the Order was witness, because you wanted them to see that I didn't know. That I never guessed."

"Yes."

"Why?" I asked again, stronger this time.

"Because the prophecy is true," Visas answered, and I turned to look at her. "And the only way they would accept that absolutely is to see you never knew about it. You _are_ meant to lead the Council, and bring the strength of the Jedi back to the galaxy."

I stared for a good minute at the Miraluka woman, and slowly nodded. "Maybe," I allowed.

"Dree," Revan said, raising her eyes to mine, "I've known this for ten years. I tried to kill you when I was Darth Revan because I knew it was true. I wanted to eliminate the source of the Jedi Order's revival. But even then, I couldn't. We'll never know for sure, because you knew me so well that I couldn't even find you. But I don't think that if I had run you to ground that I could have murdered you. I want to believe that. And I hope some day you can believe that if I had seen any other way, I would have spared you the pain I caused today."

"You are a manipulative bitch," I said succinctly.

"Yes."

"You took a hell of a chance."

"I know."

"You had no right."

"No."

"And Mak's dead," I said, and the tears I'd been holding back broke free.

When Carth arrived, no doubt tipped off by Stefan, it was to find me and Annie clinging to each other and sobbing, surrounded by my Padawan, with Atton holding us both. Every tear I never cried for my lost friend and lover poured out of me, mingling with Annie's brokenhearted nearly silent tears. We cried for theIndomitable Trio, forever broken. We cried for the first time together for Mak. There was no one else in the universe who had known him like we had, who really remembered the charming, handsome man who loved the rush of danger, good ale, seedy cantinas, and sunsets. Who would give his last credit to a stranger in need, and tenderly taught an entirely too self-contained girl-woman her first lessons in physical love. And we mourned the loss of the innocence we could never regain. Somewhere in the middle of our misery, we found peace, and forgiveness.

Unwilling to shoulder his way into the crowd around us, Carth stood uncertainly over the mass of crouching bodies. Bao Dur thoughtfully edged away enough for him to slip in and embrace us all, resting his chin on Annie's head.

"Rough day, Beautiful?" he asked quietly, and Revan gave a watery laugh.

"You could say that," she said, and the little group broke apart as everyone shifted and stretched stiff muscles.

Atton drew me to him, and I relaxed against his broad chest, sighing with spent emotion. I'd cried more in the last few weeks than I had my entire life, I was sure. I was limp with a bone deep weariness and envied Annie as she managed to struggle to her feet, supported by Carth. I needed to eat, and sleep, but I couldn't have moved if I was sitting on a primed frag grenade. I felt Atton nod, and suddenly Bao Dur plucked me up as if I was made of feathers. Atton stood, flexing and stamping his feet, and stooped to retrieve both our boots. Handing these to me, I clutched them awkwardly as the Iridonian transferred me from his arms to Atton's.

"You can't carry me all the way to your apartment," I protested.

"No," he agreed. "But I can get you to Jennet's. If we're really nice, I'll bet Lorna will feed us."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Mira said cheerfully, and we followed her like a ragged group of refugees.

The next day, Annie and I arrived at the meeting together, in a show of united purpose. We had deliberately timed it so we couldn't be cornered by anyone ahead of time, slipping in at the last minute and taking our places. The hum of conversation stepped up a pace upon seeing us together and obviously on good terms again, but we ignored it, smiling a general greeting over the crowd. Disciple caught my eye and winked so swiftly I might have imagined it. Stefan, seeing everyone was present, tapped the gavel and brought the meeting to order. Without much by way of preliminaries, he called Revan forward. Annie stood, bowed, and strode to the podium.

"Thank you, Chairman," she said, gazing calmly over the assembly. "I apologize for yesterday's sudden adjournment," she added simply. "Are there are any further questions regarding the prophecy?"

Master Quatz stood so quickly it was apparent he had been waiting impatiently for just this question. "You mentioned yesterday that you had been 'told' the first four lines of the prophecy before you defied the Council and led so many Jedi to war against the Mandalorians. Who told you?"

"Master Vandar," Revan answered readily. "He cautioned me about my passion for stopping the Mandalorians and I foolishly threatened to break with the Order and take as many Jedi with me as would follow when I did. He talked me out of it – that time – and told me this prophecy, believing it to apply to me and warning that if I defied the Council, it would lead to my falling to the Dark Side."

"Which, you must agree, is exactly what happened," Quatz said, just short of smugly.

"In a manner of speaking," Revan shrugged, unimpressed. "I made a conscious choice to ally myself with darkness; it was quite different than the usual slipping into it, the product of a thousand tiny actions."

"And with that choice, you corrupted hundreds of Jedi, thousands of Republic soldiers and citizens, ordered the destruction of the Mandalorian home world, executed their Mandalore, and eventually made war on the Order and the Republic. Perhaps this should be a war tribunal, with your freedom in the balance." Quatz was positively quivering with satisfaction.

"I might point out that I ordered the execution of the Mandalore and the destruction of Malachor V _before_ I fell. I was well away from known space before I made my decision. And later, the pattern of my attacks was deliberate; I didn't want to utterly destroy the Republic, I wanted to save it. I knew the prophecy was true by then, although I still didn't have the full content. Part of my personal mission while Malak and I sought the Star Forge was to locate the full text of Cassandria's prediction. Unfortunately, I never did before Bastila captured me." Annie's voice was calm and matter-of-fact. "As for a trial, I have already answered to the Council for my actions."

Stefan addressed Quatz coolly. "Master Revan has a point, Master Quatz. We are not here to retry a case settled years ago. Are your questions relevant?"

"I apologize for seeming to attack Master Revan; I merely am attempting to illustrate that we are receiving this data from someone that committed heinous crimes, no matter her remorse now. That puts the information she has collected in question, and her motives suspect."

"Motives for what?" Master Jerrel stood and eyed Quatz impatiently. "She has not proposed anything to be suspicious _about_. It seems you are merely discrediting a member of the Order who has already been tried and punished _and_ was instrumental in saving the galaxy, whose redemption has been sincere and complete."

Master Celia stood slowly, and stared sternly at Jerrel and Quatz, looking for all the world like a mother about to scold her bickering sons. "I had hoped with the decimation of our ranks that you two would learn to put aside your differences and unite for the common good. And yet, you argue semantics. If you have a point, Quatz, share it. If not, let us get on with the proceedings; we have a great deal to decide."

Both men were gaping at her, and shut their mouths with a snap so perfectly synchronized I wanted to laugh. Instead, I looked at a point over Mira's head and chanted the Code in my head. I decided right then and there I wanted to grow up and be just like Master Celia.

"I do have one point I would like to address," Master Quatz said smoothly, recovering from his scolding. "What of the line 'these will guide the faithful, when their number is half a score and four'? There are twenty-one of us, as I count now."

Annie smiled at him sweetly. "All members of good standing in the Order, please stand up."

There was a puzzled buzz of voices, and looks were exchanged. At Revan's smile of encouragement, the Jedi slowly stood. At the Padawan table, only Jarn got to his feet; the entire head table rose, and at my table, only I remained in my chair. I had not yet been reinstated to the Order, a fact most everyone seemed to forget, including myself. Which made my Padawan rogues, although I knew in my soul that each of them were true Jedi.

Revan looked around the room, and counted swiftly, although she already knew days ago the outcome. "Of the Jedi in this room, there are only fourteen that are officially in the Order. A half a score and four."

The expected muttering and debate commenced while I sat back and watched the dramatics. I was more amused than anything; I believed Visas utterly when she said she felt the Prophecy was true. But such matters are a tricky thing with Jedi; there are few in our history that See as clearly as one of Cassandria's reputation. They are respected, but often discounted…until proven right. Stefan banged his gavel sharply, and the voices stopped abruptly.

"We _will_ have order," he snapped, as irritated as I'd ever seen him. "We've lost most of a day's time already. Master Revan still has the floor."

"Thank you, Master Stefan," Revan said quietly. "I believe that the Prophecy must be debated, but as I have said, I have no talent for interpretation. Visas Marr, however, is a true Seer, and can shed some light on the subject. I will relinquish the floor to her, and when the Order is satisfied on the matter, I will continue with my report."

She nodded to Visas, who glided to the podium serenely. I knew the woman had feet, but she walked so smoothly I wondered if her boots were equipped with silent wheels. She faced the Order with complete calm, and everyone watched her with varying degrees of respect. I silently applauded my Padawan and her effect on others; she looked like a young benevolent queen regarding her subjects.

"Thank you, Master Revan," and her voice, though quiet, reverberated around the room. "I asked for a copy of Cassandria's Prophecy, and studied it last night."

I looked a little closer and realized that she had gotten very little sleep. If I could see her eyes, I was certain they would be shadowed by weariness. I was struck again by the loyalty and care she gave me, and was humbled.

"The first four lines I believe do indeed refer to Master Revan and the Star Forge," she went on pleasantly, as if this were merely a gathering of old friends over tea. "The next two speak of her redemption and re-initiation into the Order, and her mission to infiltrate the Sith and locate the Prophecy itself. All, this, of course, have now come to pass. The next line 'The mantle will be carried by the pure of spirit, who looked upon darkness and spurned its seductive chant' refers to my Master, Ladria. Before I continue, I must ask: Jolee Bindo, are you prepared to reenter the Order, and accept your deserved rank as Master?"

The suddenness of the question startled Jolee, who stood slowly, facing her. "That all depends," he said gruffly, staring hard around the members of the Order.

"On what, may I ask?" Visas asked calmly.

"You know what I've said," Jolee spoke with a touch of a growl. "Master Stefan offered to nominate me to Master, bypassing Knight due to my experience. I didn't rejoin the Order after the Star Forge mission; I wasn't happy with the direction it was going in. Nothing had changed from why I had left in the first place. I thought how they treated Revan was deplorable, and was quite happy having nothing much more to do with Jedi society after she left. Back then, the average Jedi was out of touch with day to day living of real people, and the ban on marriage never sat well with me," he gave an ironic smile; the tale of his stormy marriage and its tragic end was legendary. "I haven't seen a lot of difference in attitude now."

"What were your words to Stefan, upon his offer?" Visas asked, a half smile on her face. It was enough like Annie's that I shivered.

"I thanked him for the idea, and told him I wouldn't rejoin the Order until either Revan or Ladria returned." Jolee said simply. "I told him that while I thought he was a fine Chairman for now, the Order needed a change. Until I felt that there was a leader willing to do that, and not keep to the way things had always been done, I didn't think there was much place for a rebel like me."

"Thank you, Jolee," Visas said serenely. "That will be all for now."

Jolee sat, nodding respectfully to the Miraluka, and I saw many Jedi exchange significant looks. Affecting to be unaware of this, Visas continued her dissection of the Prophecy.

"By her own admission, Master Ladria was given the choice to follow darkness, and stay with Malak and Revan. She chose to flee instead, to fight them with what weapons she had. The prophecy states this _young_ Master; she is young, but even more significant, she was the youngest Master in the history of the Order, or close to it. She bore the rank of Knight for only a year before being granted Master. And a lost member has proclaimed he will not return to the faithful without her. She is the only Jedi ever to cut herself off from the Force and emerge, if not unscathed, at least intact. And the one who became her greatest enemy helped her regain her power. This is described clearly in the Prophecy; there can be no doubt Cassandria predicted her birth and accomplishments. And Ladria has _five_ Padawan; all of which have a Force bond with her; yet she insists on their free will and choices: bound, yet free. We all were drawn by her spirit and call; we all serve and learn from her gladly. The builder, Bao Dur, was the second of us to accept her teachings. Disciple, who dreams of a better Order and its place in history, joined her next. I, the Seer, overcame the evil that had overcome me, and pledged my life for hers. The hunter, Mira, a most successful but unusually compassionate bounty hunter. And the soul of the Master, Atton, the first to recognize her call, and with the darkest past, became the truest Jedi of her followers. No one has ever trained so many at once, or so well."

There was silence, and I felt the eyes of my friends on me, smiling and supportive. I was so proud of them I could sing, and swallowed the tears in my throat.

"And now we are at the place of what will yet be. I will not speak of this, except to say that I know that the last few lines will play out in the next two days. I have Seen this."

At that, she bowed, and resumed her seat. Revan approached the podium again, and smiled at the assembled company.

"With this information Visas has given in mind, I ask assemblage to reinstate Master Ladria Windbreak to the Order, recognize her Padawan as full Jedi, and allow Jolee Bindo to rejoin, and hold his vigil and test for Master." Revan said without preamble.

"The Order will vote," Stefan said, tapping his gavel. "All in favor?"

There was a loud call of "Ayes," from nearly everyone, and I saw my Padawan grinning at each other.

"Against?"

The silence was complete. Not everyone had voted, I noticed; Masters Quatz and Windor had remained silent, as well as Timon. But none opposed, and I stood and bowed, grateful beyond words.

"We welcome back Master Ladria, and extend the privileges and responsibilities of the Jedi code to her and her Padawan," Stefan said, and led the applause as we all stood.

"And now," Revan said when the clapping stopped, "we come to my most important point. I nominate Master Ladria as Chairman of the Order. Will anyone second the motion?"

"I second it," Stefan said promptly, even as Master Jerrel bounded to his feet and echoed him. The two men exchanged wide smiles and sat.

I smiled slowly, and got to my feet. Every eye in the place was upon me, and my smile grew. "Thank you all," I said sincerely. "I decline."

Pandemonium broke out in the hall as my Padawan, led by Atton and Bao Dur, started shouting at me, and Revan, for once utterly speechless, stared in shock. The Order leaped to their feet, debating, proclaiming, yelling for order, even as they added to the chaos. I sat back in my chair, smiling and serene and utterly at peace.


	18. Blood is Thicker than Water

Author's note: Well, here you go. I'm still going to be updating a bit slower, but I found some time to write. I could apologize for the cliffhanger, but hey, what's the fun if I don't keep the reader guessing? evil grin 

This is the longest chapter yet, and possibly the most complicated; hope I don't lose anyone. I've read and reread, though, and think that I've kept it moving well enough, and kept the thread of the plotlines reasonably clear. So, I hope you enjoy, and please keep the reviews coming! I appreciate feedback as well as the time anyone takes to read.

Always, LJ

* * *

Across the room, Visas appeared to be staring at me, a small smile curving her mouth. She alone seemed completely unsurprised at my action, and gave me a small nod. Disciple wasn't shouting, but he looked puzzled and vaguely hurt, and his blue eyes were nearly pleading with me to take it back. Mira glared; clearly, she thought I was letting everyone down. I hadn't bothered to listen to Atton or Bao Dur, who had quickly run out of steam when confronted by my indifference to their shouts. They joined Mira in a collective glower, with Jolee tossed in for good measure.

Of the more senior members of the Order, Stefan looked completely stunned, and Jerrel confused and vaguely insulted. Quatz, predictably, looked pleased. Windor and Timon had the most neutral expressions of the lot, more from habit I thought; they both seemed to be fence-sitters. Master Renault gave me a quietly curious look, as if he would like to ask me what I was thinking but not as if it affected him personally. Master Celia looked disapproving, Master Sharika stoic, her thoughts guarded, and Master Rene's lovely pink skin looked a little darker, as if flushed from emotion, but otherwise calm.

Ju'hani was regarding me quietly, not smiling, but her eyes were kind and she seemed to have an inkling as to what prompted me to turn down the offer as Chairman. Masters Gru and Geru had similar expressions and I smiled at all three in turn before turning my attention back to Stefan, who had finally roused himself sufficiently to bang his gavel forcefully.

_I must remember to pick one up for him as a gift_, I thought whimsically.

"Master Ladria, do you wish to…er…elaborate?" Stefan asked pointedly.

"Not especially," I answered, smiling.

"Perhaps," Revan said frostily, "you would like to do so in private?"

I looked at her full on. She had been stunned at first, yes, and I, from sheer cowardliness I admit, had avoided looking at her too long in the immediate uproar of my declining her nomination. She was recovering rapidly from shock, which was morphing into equal parts incredulity, irritation, and frustration. I, on the other hand, was starting to feel positively euphoric and smiled merrily at her. Her scowl could have melted glass.

"No, I don't think I would," I said cheerfully. "Being alone with you right now would not be wise for my health. Do watch your temper, Rev, I can practically see your blood pressure rising from here."

"Leave my health out of it," Revan gritted at me. "Why did you say no?"

"Is that an official question?" I asked pointedly, glancing around. The Order had abruptly quit talking and was listening to our exchange with rapt attention.

"Will you answer it if it is?" she asked carefully. She had unclenched her jaw enough to speak in a reasonable tone.

"Under Jedi law, I'm not required to explain anything," I said quietly.

"No, I suppose not," Revan sighed. "But will you?"

I nodded, and Annie relinquished the podium. I stood, and hesitated for an instant. I had declined out of sheer instinct, and had no idea what I was going to say. But I straightened, held my head up, and marched to the head of the tables. I rested my hands on either side of the sloped sides of the speaker's stand, seeing the vidscreen imbedded in it with a casual glance. I noticed a datapad could be plugged in, enlarging any entry. I supposed it was commonly used for a speaker's notes while giving a speech or lecture. I wished I had some prepared words now.

"I suppose I ought to point out the unusualness of a nominee for Chairman to have to explain herself when declining the offer," I said when everyone was quiet. "Most are simply respected and left alone."

I saw nods around the table, some having the grace to look a little abashed. Revan, however, did not. She simply watched me, eyes narrowed, waiting for me to get on with it.

"I am deeply aware of the honor you show me by this nomination," I said, hating the way I slipped into political-speak so easily. I couldn't help who I was, though, and chose not to apologize or try to change it. My real cloak of calm, the comfortable garment that fit me so well, returned, as if it had never deserted me. I mentally pulled the folds around me and continued with an inward smile. "I decline for many reasons, not the least of which is the sheer manipulation I was subjected to in order to get me there. Everyone wants to use me, somehow. Revan wants me to redeem her, my Padawan want me to build an Order they will be comfortable in, Stefan wants to shed his burden and go back to being on Council, not entirely in charge. Some want me to fail, or use me as an example of the dangers of the temptations of the Dark side. Some just want the entertainment of the Exile trying to rule the Order. Well, these aren't good enough reasons for me to accept any sort of nomination."

I looked around at the silent faces. "We're in extreme danger of _extinction_, and all we do is play our usual political games. We need to rethink our laws and traditions, find a way to increase our numbers quickly in the short run, and continue to keep them strong in the future. And some attitudes need to change. We cannot pretend we understand what the average person thinks of Jedi anymore. We're out of touch, and I believe the ban on close emotional ties contributes hugely to that. They called our war with Revan 'The _Jedi_ Civil War' because most people don't distinguish between us and the Sith Lords. And we've done nothing to change that lack of perception."

I saw the heads around the tables slowly nodding, some with agreement, some simply because they hadn't thought of that before. A couple shook theirs in denial and I shrugged mentally. I knew not everyone would agree. I didn't care. Catching the now calm blue gaze of Stefan, I continued.

"I won't be nominated by maneuvering and deception. That was what caused us to fall apart in the first place. We were hunted by a force we didn't understand, and my own part in that I can never truly forgive myself for. And yet…I can't help but blame the Order, somewhat, for my cutting myself off from the Force, which caused the wound that allowed us to be picked off, sometimes in groups, but more often, one by one. If the Order had been quicker to study my gifts, allow me to understand them better, rather than keep me ignorant out of fear, perhaps things would have been different. We were decimated not only because our enemies took advantage of the wound in the Force, and tracked us. We were divided before that…._long_ before it, and it made us vulnerable. We serve the greater _good_, yes…but there is supposed to be balance. If the Light holds too much sway over Dark, it becomes as corrupted as its enemy."

The hall was silent as a tomb. Every eye was riveted on me, the faces around the tables carved from marble. I took a deep breath and continued.

"I'm being used as a means to force the Order to face these facts and invoke change. Well, I refuse to be a part of that sort of manipulation. We need to change. We need to take a hard look at ourselves and decide how to carry on. And we can't do that by setting up a leader who will serve as a scapegoat if it doesn't work, or take all the credit if it does.

"These are the facts," I said soberly, "we are now a handful from thousands. The Sith will continue to invade the Republic, and try to corrupt and conquer. It is not due to the actions of only a few of us that this has come to pass. It is centuries of choices and evolution that has brought us here. And we cannot win."

A low muttering ran through the tables, quickly stifled. I looked hard at everyone, willing them to understand.

"That is the most important fact we need to face. _We cannot win._ Understand it. Embrace it. But do not let it rule us. Because we _can_ have balance."

I saw heads nod slowly, and looks exchanged. I chanced a swift glance at Revan, who was now wearing her half-smile. I sent her a quick smile back and returned my attention to the assembly.

"We cannot win, but we can beat them back, and keep them there. I believe that Revan has information that will help us do that. But we need to stand together, agree on what direction our Order will take, before we can hope to fight." I met Atton's eyes, and he sent me a warm smile, nodding. Bao Dur had stopped looking like he might break his table and was sitting back, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"I have a proposal, if the Order permits," I looked at Stefan, who nodded.

"You appear to have the floor, Master Ladria," he said mildly, and there was a ripple of quiet laughter. Even Quatz' mouth twitched briefly.

"I suggest we spend today and tomorrow, or however long it takes, discussing what traditions of the Order need revamping, followed by Revan's report on the intelligence she has gathered, along with mine from both my most recent missions. From there, it will be clearer who would be best to lead us," my voice was quiet but carrying.

"That is a very good suggestion, Master Ladria," Master Gru stood and bowed to me. "Chairman?" he invited, turning to Stefan.

"I agree," he answered with a smile. "We will proceed as Master Ladria proposes. Do you have a point of discussion you wish to bring forward?" he asked me gravely.

"As a matter of fact, I have several," I answered, smiling. "I will start with the ban on marriages and the edict of separation from families."

The debates and discussions of the next two days were lively and occasionally heated. As expected, Revan and I were both accused of wanting to lift the ban on marriage for our own convenience. I pointed out that Revan had no personal ulterior motive to want this, as her agreement with the former Council allowed her marriage to Carth. She might push for it for my sake, but she put the entire Order in its place by pointing out that much of the damage to herself in the past was due to the Order not encouraging outside influence. Had she been on better terms with her own family, she might have been less impulsive to barge in to war; a lot of her motivation was based on her own separation from her family, and wanting to spare others that.

Taking up this battle cry, I quickly drew Stefan into a prolonged discussion of Jennet's parents, and their break from the Order. If the Order had been more tolerant, Miranne and Drake Jax would have stayed, and their daughter would not have been forced into hiding her talent most of her life. A valuable and powerful Jedi had been denied her rightful place, I argued.

"While I see your point, Master Ladria," Master Sharika said smoothly, "I could argue that Jennet was shaped by the situation, and hardly suffered for it. Her talent might have been more balanced, yes, but would her healing ability have developed so strongly otherwise? I have heard much of this young woman, and the reports impress me. She seems a most self sufficient person, yet has chosen to ally herself with our former enemy. She would not have had that opportunity if she had been raised Jedi."

"Jennet _was_ raised Jedi; it was simply not sanctioned by the Order," Stefan interjected. "Your argument is sound, except on one point: she was forced to spend much of her life alone, without support of trained Jedi, and develop her gifts largely without guidance. And she was deeply affected by her parent's sorrow from breaking with the Order. They loved each other deeply, and passed that depth of feeling to their daughter, but under that, they wanted to come home. Jennet always knew this, and consequently sought a place to belong, while at the same time keeping herself apart from society. It strengthened her, yes, but also hampered her. Of us all, Jennet has the clearest idea of what the Order has done to its members by denying them the simple right to love and marry, and build a relationship with another feeling being."

"Not to mention me," Jolee said loudly, and everyone stared at the old man. "I left, and married my wife, and those years were the happiest of my life. It turned out badly, as most of you know, but I wouldn't trade them. It was a lesson in life that most Jedi are denied, and I personally have benefited from the experience. We're taught that life is often pain, and change is a part of that, yet we avoid the most basic of relationships, one that enriches us all. So we hide our feelings, and deny love, and passion. 'There is no passion, only serenity', my ass! Passion invokes change, sustains us when we want to lie down and die. It's only when it's misused for personal power that it's dangerous. _That_ is what we should be teaching."

The debate continued for a while, but in the end, the edict was lifted, to almost everyone's approval. Even Master Quatz seemed satisfied that he had gotten his say. It was an enormous step forward, and I was ecstatic. Revan and I exchanged radiant smiles and the whole hall seemed to breathe new life. We turned our attention to other issues, and at the end of three days, had mapped out new bylaws for the Order, including training anyone of any age that proved to be sensitive enough to endure the tests to become Jedi.

Children that were found would be trained in the usual manner, but their families would send them to us much in the manner of a boarding school, with visitation rights and progress reports. The Order would retain absolute authority of the child when it came to their education, but they would no longer be encouraged to forget their loved ones. I felt this would foster an understanding between the rest of the galaxy and the Jedi Order. To become Jedi would be an honor and a privilege, carrying heavy responsibility as it has always done. But members could share their triumphs and failures with their families. I was enormously pleased.

We had held the delayed reception on the second day, with Jennet and Canderous, Carth, Will, Mission, and Dustil attending, as well as Jarxel and Megari, who brought Danni. I wanted all of them there, partly because the Republic and Jedi Order had such close ties, but also to encourage understanding between the Mandoa, Republic, and Jedi. Little Danni impressed many of the Order, her sweet mixture of wise prophet and whimsical child charming everyone. I was approached quietly by Master Celia regarding Megari's daughter and assured her that the Seer ability that was rapidly becoming obvious was being nurtured.

"Perhaps we'll have a child to train sooner than we had even hoped," Celia said thoughtfully, and I nodded in agreement.

"Perhaps," I echoed. "It's up to Megari, I think. But Visas is splendid with Danni; she'll keep us posted."

Celia smiled and drifted off to chat with Master Gru. I joined Carth and Revan, catching up on what he and his children had been up to during the meetings. Apparently, the three of them had been visiting Onderon, partly for shopping, partly for Carth to keep an appointment with the Queen to discuss Dxun's progress and assure her of ongoing good will. She had been wary of the Mandalorians emigrating en masse to a moon that belonged to her planet, but had recognized the help the Mandalore provided her in the recent civil war, enabling her to retain her throne. Carth had been charged with the diplomatic mission of strengthening ties between the royal family and the Republic, and balancing relations between Onderon and Dxun.

"She wants to meet Canderous and Jennet soon," Carth reported, his handsome face set in his best mediator's expression. "But things are going well, and she no longer fears a Mandalorian attack on her city."

"I'm glad to hear that," I approved, and grinned mischievously. "Once she meets Jennet, Her Majesty will be so charmed she'll hand over half their defense grid."

Carth laughed, but didn't disagree. Annie was now circulating the room, and Mission was talking to Jennet, their animated faces adding a soft glow to the gathering. Jennet was leaning a bit on Canderous, who was as close to looking pleasantly diplomatic as he ever gets. Jarxel was chatting with Stefan. The two men had developed quite a friendship, although Canderous was still a bit wary of the Jedi. Hardly surprising, considering Stefan and Jennet's past. But the Mandalore didn't seem disapproving of his XO being friendly with Stefan, and I suspected Canderous liked Stefan a good deal more than he was willing to admit. I hid a smile and was turning to look for Atton when I felt a touch on my arm.

"Aunt Dree," Dustil said, a little anxiously, "I need to talk to you."

"Of course," I said, surprised. "What can I help you with?"

"Not here," he said, casting a swift look around. "Can I speak to you in private?"

He offered his arm, and we retreated to a small room off the main hall that would probably be a maintenance office when the building came into general use. Dustil sent a furtive look out into the common room before shutting the door.

"What's wrong?" I asked immediately, concerned at his secrecy. "Is Mission all right?"

"She's fine," Dustil said absently. He turned to me, his eyes, the same color as his father's, glowing with a blue-gold intensity. "I want to be trained as a Jedi," he blurted.

"I see," I said after a moment. "And have you talked to Mission about this? Or your father?"

"Mission, yes, and she approves. Dad…not yet. I wanted to know if it was possible before I spring it on him." Dustil said quietly. "He's so proud of me getting my commission…I don't want to throw that away or disappoint him if…" his voice trailed off, but I understood.

"Oh, it's certainly possible," I assured him. "Annie's told me before that you have more than enough Force sensitivity to qualify. She was rather surprised you didn't ask sooner."

"Well, it's Mission," he admitted. "I'm going to marry her, and at the time, the Order wouldn't have permitted that. So I enrolled in the Academy. Families are expensive, I understand, and I wanted to do something meaningful, something to help the effort against the Sith. But if I really am Force sensitive…the Jedi need me. I'm concerned, though, that I wouldn't be able to support us…I don't know how it works. Mission has her career, of course, and makes more than I ever will, even if I make Command level, which wouldn't be for years in any case. But it's not fair to her, supporting me solely while I run around, saving the galaxy." He gave me a rueful smile, and I patted his arm in reassurance.

"You don't have to worry about that," I said sympathetically. "The Order supports its members well enough, much like any other employment. It requires a great commitment, one that doesn't lend itself to taking on another job to pay the bills." I grinned. "As a matter of fact, one of the issues we're scheduled to debate is the financial well being of the Order, and how to sustain everyone. We're fine…the Order has more wealth than most outsiders realize. The Sith didn't attack us economically, at least. I expect Master Geru and Quatz will be in charge of that in the end. As unpleasant as Quatz can be, I understand he's brilliant with finances."

Dustil looked distinctly relieved, and we spent a few minutes discussing his introduction to the Order. When he left, I saw a lightness to his step that hadn't been there before and was pleased to have acquired such a splendid recruit. I was worried for Mission, of course, but inordinately proud of the young man, who had become my nephew in my heart, if not biologically. Then something struck me.

_A soldier who danced with ancient enemies will join in the battle for balance._

I returned to the reception, lost in thought, not paying attention to my surroundings. A strong hand gripped my elbow, halting my progress, and I looked up, startled, realizing I'd I narrowly avoided crashing into someone.

"I beg your pardon," I said, looking up into the pale blue eyes of Master Windor. The automatic smile of apology I'd started froze a little. I'd thoroughly checked his aura, even probed a little mentally, and there was nothing unusual or sinister about him. But he made me uneasy…or maybe I just wasn't used to being so blatantly admired. There was a surprising amount of heat when he looked at me, for eyes such a cold color. And I hadn't liked the tone he used when he'd called me Exile.

"Not at all," Windor said smoothly. "Such a serious look for a party," he teased, lifting a hand as if to touch my face. I stepped back a pace, looking around for Atton, but he was nowhere to be found. I spotted Disciple, and smiled brightly.

"Excuse me, I must speak to my Padawan," I said brightly, and slipped past him to catch up to Disciple. I felt his eyes on my back as I walked away.

As I approached, I recalled that I in fact _did_ need to speak to Disciple; or he to me, more precisely. Our meeting was supposed to be tonight, but with canceling the meeting and reception the day before, it had thrown everything off schedule. I apologized when I reached his side, feeling guilty of having to put him off yet again.

"It's no matter, Master," the tall young man said sincerely. "I understand that the concerns of the moment are far more important."

"I'm grateful for your patience," I said quietly, "but whatever is on your mind is important enough to ask me for a private meeting. What concerns you, concerns me; that's how it works, you know," I teased gently.

"It's…well, it's a private matter," Disciple said cautiously.

He appeared to be faintly troubled, which likely meant he was more upset than was apparent. He was very good at the polite façade when he chose.

"Come with me," I said, taking his arm and leading him to the office. "What's troubling you?" I asked gently when the door had closed.

"As you know, I did a great deal of research for Jennet and Canderous for their wedding," Disciple said, offering me a chair at the small table against one wall. He was far too polite to sit while I was standing, so I took it, nodding at him to be seated.

"Yes, you combed the records for information on their families for the ceremony," I recalled. "I don't remember anything unusual, however."

I was beginning to regret my impulse to talk now. The reception was still going strong; it might be hours before it broke up, which was a long time to deal with the public, so to speak, if the subject was as sensitive and personal as I was beginning suspect it was. Well, no help for it now; Disciple was continuing, his voice both hesitant but eager, as if finding some relief in talking about it.

"There wasn't, exactly," he said carefully. "But after you left, I did some more research. I was curious about my own background, you see. I had tried many times in the past to find out where I came from, but never could find any record of when I was brought to the Conclave. I don't remember anything else; I was just a baby when the Jedi brought me to Coruscant. And I was about eight when you left for the Mandalorian War. I stayed until I was seventeen, and joined the Republic Fleet. But you know all this," he said, shrugging.

"Yes, you've told me," I answered with a puzzled smile. "I take it you found something troubling?"

"Not for me, exactly…" to my astonishment, he was blushing slightly. "It's my…well, let me just show you something."

He handed over a datapad, and I automatically glanced down. It was blood tests, his and…I gasped. At a word from him, I scrolled through more information, stopped and took a breath, and began at the beginning of the report, reading slowly, making sure I understood fully. Then I looked up into Disciple's troubled blue gaze, my own wide and startled.

"Go get him," I ordered. "And not a word to her."

"Of course not," he said, faintly indignant. "I'll be right back."

In less than five minutes, Disciple was back, Master Stefan in tow. I looked over the older Jedi critically, hoping to all the Gods what I'd seen in the datapad had a good explanation. I sincerely liked Stefan, and could not believe that he would knowingly have pursued the course of action he had.

"What's wrong?" Stefan demanded once the door was closed to prying ears. "Is Jennet all right?"

"She's fine," I said carefully, eyeing the handsome Jedi warily. "I'd like you to read this, please." I handed him the datapad, and he took it gingerly, obviously unsure what was going on.

I watched as he read, and saw when his face drained of every vestige of color. His hands started trembling and he turned to Disciple, eyes wide and shocked, but not guilty. I could swear to that.

"I should have guessed," he said, almost to himself. "You even look like him, but with her eyes. How could I not see it?" He was silent a moment, staring at Disciple, and one hand reached toward him, as if to touch his face. Abruptly, he pulled the hand back and seemed to come back to himself. "I'm sorry, son," he said quietly, "but I'm not your father. More important, I didn't have an incestuous relationship with your sister. Jennet's not mine, either."

"Then how is it all our blood samples are a match?" Disciple demanded, as close to angry as I'd ever seen him. "Can you deny facts?"

"If the test is true, then you _are_ Jennet's brother. But I did not father either of you. Drake and Miranne Jax are your parents," Stefan insisted. "And none of us knew where you were, I swear. They left the Order immediately after your birth."

Disciple stared at him, his mouth in a thin line, eyes as bright and brittle as blue diamonds. "I'm certain Jennet knows nothing of this," he said finally. "And even if she did, I can hardly blame her for not looking for me if her - our - parents didn't tell her the full story. But you _knew_ she had a brother. Why didn't you tell her?"

"If Miranne hadn't, and it was obvious that was the case, or Jennet would have asked me about it, was it up to me to explain things?" Stefan asked almost bitterly. "Drake and Miranne spent most of their lives trying to find you, uprooting their daughter continuously. They did this not only to protect her from the same fate you suffered – separation from her family, but in an increasingly hopeless attempt to find out what had happened to their firstborn. They didn't even know if you were a boy or a girl. I can only suppose they didn't tell Jennet to spare her from a fruitless search that would consume her life. Jennet is incredibly loyal; she would have sacrificed everything trying to find you, ignoring any chance at permanence and happiness she had," he added. "They knew that about her almost from her birth. They had taken from her a stable home; they didn't want to add to the burden."

"Is this guesswork, or did they tell you that?" Disciple asked carefully. His eyes had gone almost the color of steel, but his voice was steady. I put a hand on his arm, looking up into his face, and he relaxed slightly at the touch.

"It's guesswork," Stefan admitted. "But I knew them both well; I could swear to you that they never gave up hope they would find you. At least, Drake never did. Miranne…" He sighed heavily. "When Drake died, she seemed to draw into herself. I stayed away after his funeral, at her request. From what I could gather from Jennet, she seemed to concentrate on her daughter, preparing her for…being alone. As if she knew she was going to die young as well, and Jennet needed all her attention. I think…she made a choice, then, to let you go." There were tears in the older man's eyes, and he looked away. Taking a deep breath, he faced Mical squarely. "You need to know the whole story."

"I think I deserve that, yes," the younger Jedi said steadily.

"Gentlemen," I said softly, and they both started at my voice, having forgotten I was there. "Outside this door is what is left of the Jedi Order. Our absence is going to be noticed soon. I realize that this is a…momentous…discovery for both of you, and I can't even begin to understand how either of you feel right now. But…this is an extraordinary situation, and affects far more than just the two of you."

They nodded at me automatically, but I saw some of the shock leaving their faces. They both stood a little straighter, and the tension eased.

"If Mical could find this information, then others could," I pointed out. "Which means it might get back to Jennet. She's getting close to term; a large shock could trigger early labor. She's healthy, and strong, and Mical's assured me the baby is as well. But we can take no chances with either her or Helen's health. It would be best if we can get through this reception, and discuss this later, when we have more privacy, and decide then how and when to tell her." I scanned both men's faces, and saw shocked understanding. If I could count on anything, it was their sincere devotion to Jennet. They nodded in unison, clearly united in their desire to protect her.

Satisfied, I continued. "Unless, of course, you don't want me involved. In that case, make your excuses, and continue your conversation elsewhere. I understand if you would prefer to keep it between the two of you for now. Otherwise, it would be wise to return to the reception, behave as if nothing untoward has happened, and meet afterwards. What do you want to do?" I was calm, but there was an edge to my voice.

Both Jedi responded to that authority, Stefan with a short nod, Mical with a bow.

"I would like to have you there, Master," Disciple said simply.

I smiled gently at his unspoken plea. He wanted support from someone he trusted to have his interests at heart, who loved both him and his newfound sister.

"I'm sorry I pushed you to tell me now," I said, squeezing his arm in apology. "And I'm sorry you must wait to hear the rest. But I'm certain Master Stefan will be able to give you the answers you seek."

"Disciple…" Stefan said carefully, seeming to understand that to address the younger man by his given name would be a mistake. "I knew your parents better than anyone. They mourned your loss, and wanted nothing more than to know you were safe. And they would have been proud of the man you are."

Mical searched the older Jedi's eyes, and apparently found something there that reassured him. With a shadow of a smile, he nodded, and escorted me gallantly out the door, for all the world as if we'd just been discussing the state of the refreshments.

The reception seemed to last forever, but both Disciple and Stefan were consummate diplomats; no one could have suspected anything was out of the ordinary. I caught Jennet giving Stefan a quizzical look at one point; she was very much in tune with her uncle and was more perceptive than most. But she shrugged, obviously making a mental note to ask about it later, and the moment passed. I didn't dare speak of it to anyone, not even Atton; too many ears around. I had no intention of hiding the situation from the Order forever. But the parties involved deserved privacy as they sorted out the tangle of deception and discovery. When the party broke up around nine, I knew it was going to be a long night ahead of us.

Cleanup was swift with me, Stefan, my Padawan and the Onasi family all pitching in. I insisted Jennet get home to put her feet up, and Megari to put Danni to bed; neither of them protested long. Annie and Carth headed back to the Mandalore's house when all was in order. Mission and Dustil had moved to one of the unused apartments; neither of them were terribly comfortable sharing room under the same roof as their father yet. Everyone scattered to their quarters, and Atton took my arm. I shook my head regretfully.

"I'm sorry, love," I said quietly. "Disciple and Stefan have a…private matter they need to discuss with me. I'll tell you about it when I can, but…don't wait up. It might take a while."

Atton immediately looked concerned, but nodded understandingly. "Don't tell me _they_ want to get married, too?" he joked, then had the grace to look abashed. "Sorry. That was poor taste even for me."

"Would it bother you if they did?" I asked curiously.

"No," he said sincerely, and I saw no bravado there, just simple truth. "I've never cared what steered someone's starship. But I'd be surprised; they both seem to like women, and Stefan _was_ engaged to Jennet once."

"I assure you it's nothing to do with that," I assured him.

We had agreed to meet at Disciple's apartment, and he had gone on ahead. Good host that he was, I suspected he was preparing stiff drinks all around. Stefan waited expectantly, and Atton kissed me goodnight before I joined him.

To my surprise, Stefan asked curiously, "Isn't Atton coming with us?"

"I thought you'd want as few people involved as possible at first," I said, puzzled.

"As far as I know, Disciple's invited all your Padawan up, and Revan," Stefan said, shrugging. "Wouldn't do to leave Atton out."

"But Annie left with Carth," I said, confused.

"Revan escorted Carth out the door and circled back," Stefan corrected. "I imagine they're already waiting at Disciple's apartment."

I stared at him, and Atton grinned. "You all are a bunch of sneak thieves in the rough," he laughed. "Let's go join the real party, shall we?"

I scanned the assorted faces of my friends when we walked through the door. There was an air of solemn solidarity, and expressions ranged from concerned puzzlement to outright worry, poorly concealed. I smiled in reassurance at each in turn, and the atmosphere relaxed somewhat. Stefan strode over to Disciple, and accepted a glass of what appeared to be strong whiskey.

Disciple's apartment was almost as neutral as Atton's, with only a few token personal items here and there to make it his own space. I saw books and datapads taking up nearly an entire wall, neatly stacked on shelves and sleek labeled storage units. A beverage cart was in one corner of the small kitchen, with good whiskey and wine chilling in an ornate bucket. I accepted a glass from Bao Dur as I seated myself and realized with a shock Jennet and Canderous were here, tucked in a small couch. Why I hadn't noticed immediately I couldn't say; mostly, I hadn't expected it. I gave Disciple a quizzical look and he smiled faintly. Annie slipped up beside me and spoke in my ear.

"I convinced them that Jennet needs to know, and she's not as fragile as they think," she said quietly. "I don't know exactly what's going on here, but if it involves my Padawan, I want to be here. And she's tough; whatever they're going to tell her, she can handle, pregnancy notwithstanding."

"I agree," I murmured back. "Besides, she'll kill us if everyone knows but her."

"Too true," Annie grinned. "She's a lot like me."

"I've noticed," I said dryly, and she laughed.

"Thank you all for coming," Disciple said, slipping into formality, and we all focused our attention on the tall blond Jedi. "I've recently discovered something both wonderful and tragic, and I wanted to share it with you all. Especially you," he said softly, looking at Jennet, who looked bewildered. Canderous slipped an arm around her, and she leaned against his chest.

"Be careful, son," Canderous said with a growl. "I won't have her upset."

"I wish I could say this won't, but I can't make that sort of promise," Disciple said soberly. "I will say that I sincerely regret any shock that this will cause. I had to weigh what I know against how you would feel finding out later, and thought it would be best to tell you. I couldn't risk you finding out by accident."

He was looking at Jennet, who remained confused and was starting to look impatient and frightened; a bad combination. Canderous was obviously soothing her mentally, and she relaxed a fraction, but her brown eyes remained locked with Disciple's.

"Tell me _what, _for Force sake?" she asked sharply.

Disciple started to speak, but seemed to falter when faced with actually getting the words out. He seemed to gather his own courage, and straightened his shoulders. "It seems we're related," he said carefully. "I've done some research, and I had your blood work, of course, being your physician. And we're a DNA match."

"Well, hell, that's not so shocking," Jennet said, visibly relaxing. "I have lots of distant family I've never met. I'm glad you're one of them," she smiled, and put her hands out to him.

He came over to her, kneeling on the floor so she wouldn't have to stand, and took her small hands in both of his. He had long fingered, graceful hands, slightly bigger than Atton's but much the same quality of dexterous cleverness. I saw him squeeze Jennet's gently as he looked at her, eyes soft and anxious.

"Not distant," he said softly. "I said _match_."

"Match?" Jennet said blankly. "You mean…_closely_ related?"

"Yes," Disciple said simply.

"That's impossible," she said, yanking her hands away and starting to tremble. "I'm an only child, and my parents wouldn't have…no." she looked hard at him, saw the distress on his face, and softened. "They didn't remember their families. They must have had siblings they didn't know about. You're a cousin, probably."

"No, sweetheart," Stefan said, his blue eyes sad and gentle. "They didn't. Disciple did his research for your wedding, and he's an excellent archivist. He never uncovered any lost aunts or uncles on either side of Drake and Miranne's families. They both were the end of their particular branches of their family trees."

"But…" Jennet suddenly looked very young and lost.

She automatically put her hand on her belly, stroking it softly and I exchanged worried looks with Visas. Canderous was visibly reigning in his temper, his concern for his wife obvious. Mira shifted and took Jennet's hand, and she clutched it gratefully, sitting bolt upright and starting to shake. Abruptly, she struggled to her feet, and Disciple stood with her.

"Get out of my way," Jennet said calmly. "I need to pace."

He backed away carefully, allowing the small woman to shoulder by. Jennet picked through the crowd to the open area between the kitchen and living room, only to discover Stefan still standing by the beverage service.

"You," she snarled, "sit."

He obliged, retreating to a chair he pulled from the dining area and dragged swiftly behind the couch occupied by Bao Dur and Megari. Canderous looked as if to follow his wife, but sat back after a piercing look. His mouth was in a grim line, and he looked like he wanted to hit something. We watched in silence as Jennet walked back and forth, head down and breathing as if to calm herself. Her hands were cradling her belly, but neither of them had moved to her back, and I was certain that there was no sign of false, or Gods forbid, real labor. Her boots were nearly soundless on the carpet.

Finally, she stopped, and faced Stefan.

"All right," she said. "Tell me."

"And me," Disciple added.

"You don't know?" Jennet asked, astonished. "I thought…"

"All I know," Disciple said gently, "is that I'm your brother. And I thought that Stefan was my…our…father. But I was wrong," he said quickly, as Jennet turned white and looked ready to collapse. Visas was closest to her, and swiftly supported Jennet's bulk, Canderous right behind, oblivious to the scramble to get out of his way. He picked her up as if she were composed of nothing weightier than cobwebs, strode back to their couch, and seated her firmly on his lap.

"And I thought you had tact," Mira spat at Disciple, who was looking stricken.

"I'm sorry," he said wretchedly, and Jennet smiled at him wanly.

"Is that the worst shock?" she asked acerbically. "That I _didn't_ fuck my father?"

Canderous flinched, but said mildly enough, "I could have lived without that statement."

"Well, excuse me for not thinking of _your_ feelings right now," Jennet snapped, and struggled to get up. Canderous didn't appear to move much, but she was trapped, and glowered at him. "Let me go."

"No," he said calmly. "You need to calm down and hear this out. It will be worse if you don't."

"For who?" she snarled.

"You. And Helen." Canderous was looking like a stone statue, but something must have touched her, and she relaxed again.

"All right," she said after a moment. She looked over at Stefan and nodded.

"I'm not sure how to begin," he confessed, shaking his head as if to clear it.

"Start at the beginning. Go on through to the end. Then stop." Jennet said through gritted teeth, but her face was looking lost again, and she closed her eyes, leaning back against her Mate. Canderous kept his eyes on Stefan, as if daring him to make this as swift and painless as possible. Stefan returned the stare steadily, and nodded to the younger man.

"You all know that Drake and Miranne left the Order, so that they could marry. They did it with the Council's knowledge and if not blessing, at least their eventual approval. What wasn't known to many was that they had been trying for two years to gain permission to marry, and stay." Stefan said quietly.

He looked around the room at our rapt faces, and noted that Jennet still wasn't looking at him. Disciple, however, was staring at the man he had come to admire as if he didn't recognize him. I admit that it seemed most likely to me that Stefan _was_ his father; they were much alike in looks, attitude and charm. But I'd seen holos of Jennet's parents, and had to admit that Disciple, although taller and burlier, looked a great deal like Drake Jax, save his eyes, which were the same color and set as Miranne's. I wondered where he got his height and build; it certainly wasn't from either of his parents. Drake had been, with the imperfect perspective of old pictures, only average height and slim build; Miranne had not been much taller than her daughter.

"The Order was very rigid about such things," Stefan continued. "They were hypocritical in many ways; as long as you kept things discrete, they looked the other way. I could name quite a few higher ranking Jedi that had serious love affairs that were never reprimanded for their relationships. As long as it wasn't public, or interfered with their duties, they were let be. But Miranne and Drake…they were honest, and didn't agree with living in secrecy. They wanted to change the Order's edict, make it acceptable for Jedi to marry and have families. I agreed with them, and lobbied along side my best friends, among others, for change. But the Order was set in its ways, and much more powerful than the handful of us that were brave enough to argue. And they were ruthless when it came to scandal." He sighed heavily, looking at Jennet and Disciple with something close to pleading.

Jennet had opened her eyes now, and sat up, regarding her honorary uncle with sympathy. "I remember Mom saying that she would have stayed, if they had allowed her to marry Dad."

"She would have, and Drake," Stefan assured her. "But they never could have gotten approval; the mindset at the time was too traditional. So Miranne took matters into her own hands; she deliberately got pregnant. She discussed it with Drake first; don't think she snuck behind his back. They even talked to me about it. I warned them that I didn't think it would work, but they were my friends, closer to me than family. I agreed to support whatever choice they made. So Miranne conceived, and went to the Council, demanding that she be allowed to marry the father, and stay in the Order. She didn't name who had gotten her pregnant; we had been careful to make our campaign as impersonal as possible. We knew the Council would be even less receptive if they thought we wanted change simply for personal reasons."

The room was so quiet I could make out individual breathing patterns. Stefan looked around again, gathering his thoughts, and resumed his story.

"Predictably, they refused. They demanded that she not only stay in the Order, but give up her child when it was born, and give them the name of the father. They interrogated her for hours, but wouldn't use drugs; they were respectful of the life she carried. But they underestimated her strength, and she wouldn't tell them anything. The best mind manipulators they had couldn't get through. And they kept her under house arrest for some time. Drake and I were frantic; no one would let us see her. And then I suggested something stupid."

"You claimed to be the father," Jennet said quietly, and Stefan nodded, his face pale. "Why?"

"The three of us were so close that most of our friends weren't sure who Miranne was in love with, if they even suspected more than simple friendship," Stefan said. "The few we confided in were respectful of our privacy. The Council weren't monsters; they questioned everyone who were friendly with us, but didn't put them through the same interrogation they subjected Miranne, Drake, and me to. Oh, yes, they weren't fools," Stefan said bitterly. "They understood it had to be one of us. So they weren't at all surprised when I stepped forward."

"But that doesn't explain _why_," Jennet said sharply. "Or that why the blood samples would match. Which, by the way, I haven't seen," she added.

Disciple handed Jennet the datapad with the report, and she read through it thoughtfully. Surprisingly, Bao Dur asked to look at it when she was done, and it was passed to the big Iridonian. He studied it carefully, going back and forth between the bits of data, and gave it back with a small grin.

"You reprogrammed the computer, didn't you?" he asked with some admiration. "And did a thorough job of it too."

"Yes," Stefan said ruefully. "Too good, it seems. I set up a sampling unit to identify my pattern as Drake's, and reprogrammed the main databanks not to recognize a discrepancy. Basically, I told it to see my DNA as Drake's and vise versa. Once the data was entered, any blood relative of Drake's would come up as a match to me. No one thought to question things; we were very clever."

"To what point?" Jennet asked, clearly confused. "Why would Dad want to deny his child?"

"He didn't," Stefan said firmly. "We only wanted to confuse the issue. If they thought _I_ was the father, they wouldn't forbid her to continue to be friends with Drake, only me. We thought they would let her go, banish me to some backwater planet for a while, and later, Drake would join her. We gave up the idea of the Order changing their laws; the plan was for them to leave outright, first her, then Drake, so as not to arouse too much suspicion."

"But that's not what they did, is it?" Disciple said wisely. "They sent both of you away."

"Yes," Stefan said regretfully, sitting abruptly and leaning his elbows on his knees. "Neither of us were alone for a moment for the eight months before your birth. And when they allowed us back, you were gone, and Miranne was almost comatose. They had treated her kindly, but kept her in a small outpost under guard. Apparently, unexpected pregnancy happened from time to time, and the Order had a secret clinic set up to take care of the occasional…problem. And when she went into labor, they gave her drugs, and took the baby while she was under."

"What happened when you and Dad got back?" Jennet asked, her face a mask of pity and horror for her mother.

"It was almost a month afterwards that they allowed us to see her," Stefan said. "She had retreated so far within herself that they were desperate to find a way to reach her. So they brought us both back. And when she saw us, it was the first time she had spoken a word or cried for a month. They even allowed us privacy; no cameras, no recording devices at all. And we stayed there, the three of us, for another two weeks. Drake got through within a day, and we found out the whole story. Since they thought the baby was mine, I demanded to know if it was a boy or girl, where they had taken it, what we needed to do to get it back. But to no avail; the Order had closed ranks, and wouldn't allow any of us any information about the child. Miranne, when she came out of her shock, was burning with anger toward the Order, and wanted nothing more to do with it. So we used the time and privacy we had to plan."

He took a healthy swig of whiskey, and poured himself another. His blue eyes were far away, reliving the pain of loss, and Jennet was crying now. Disciple sat, still as a stone, but unconsciously had reached for his sister's hand, and they clung together over Canderous's lap. The Mandalore was stroking Jennet's hair, her curls tumbled from the ponytail she usually wore it in. The rest of us were so silent I wondered how many were holding their breath. I glanced at Megari and saw silent tears slowly trickling from her beautiful purple eyes, and she was holding Bao Dur's hand tightly. Atton's face was blank, and he put his arm around me. Revan had moved to sit closer to her Padawan, and gently touched her arm.

"We decided to use what little leverage we had. I went to the Council, and told them that Miranne blamed me for the loss of our child, as much as the Order. I begged them to allow her and the child to go, leave the Order, on the promise that I would have no further contact with either of them. They only agreed to allowing Miranne to break with the Order; they flatly refused to give back her child. It was a lesson, they said, to anyone that thought to force the Order into changing their traditions," Stefan's voice was laced with bitterness and pain. "It was the best I could do, and Miranne left almost immediately after that, with Drake. We told them that he was disgusted with the whole mess, and wanted nothing more to do with the Order. Six months later, they married. Since they wouldn't let Miranne have her child, I refused to cut ties with them, but did stay away for a few months to lend credence to our story that she blamed me."

"And how long was it until Jennet was born?" Disciple asked quietly.

"They were married a year when Miranne conceived," Stefan said. "Her birth did much to heal her mother, but they never stopped looking for you."

"Why did you stay in the Order?" Jennet asked harshly. "After all they did? To Mom, and Dad, and you? _You_ might have known the truth, that the baby was Dad's, but they didn't. Why did you stay?"

"Where else would I go?" he asked sadly. "I stayed for a lot of reasons, some of which I have already shared with you. I saw what Drake and Miranne were to each other, and didn't care to settle for anything less than that depth of feeling. I thought also somehow our tragedy might start some changes, that I could help with making things less constricting, and more open to its members. And if I stayed, I might gain access to records that would help my friends find their child. So I was a good boy, and penitent, and played by the rules. And eventually, I was forgiven. You never knew it, Jennet, but Drake came back to the Council about every two years, and asked to be readmitted, but only if their marriage was recognized, and they had assurance the child was well and happy. The Order assured them of the baby's welfare, but steadfastly refused to allow the marriage. And so they stayed away. But I never stopped trying to change the Council's minds, so I became a bit of a problem. On one hand, I was causing no more trouble, and was a good Jedi, and powerful enough they didn't want me to go. On the other, I was an annoying insect, buzzing about the Council, reminding them of their mistake that forced Miranne and Drake to go. Their intention, of course, was to force them both into staying, and they never wanted to admit how badly that backfired."

"You took a hell of a chance," Bao Dur said unexpectedly. "All it would have taken is for them to run the tests on an untainted computer for them to realize you'd lied."

"Lucky for us, they didn't do that," Stefan said sardonically. "I don't know that it would have played out any better if they had. As it was, they retained me, and were content with the bargain, in the end. Later, when I was involved with Jennet, they used the old tragedy to force me to give her up. I wasn't about to put you through that hell, love. So I broke it off with you, but swore to the Council I would tell you everything and you would put up a hell of a fight to find your sibling, causing a huge scandal, if they didn't leave you alone. They believed me." He gave her an ironic lift of the eyebrow and took another large sip of his drink. "They were scandalized enough that I was having an affair with who they thought was my former lover's daughter. That was rather fun, I admit, getting some of my own back on them." His laugh was short and angry.

"Something doesn't scan," Disciple said, sitting up abruptly. "I'm only a year older than Jennet. If she wasn't born until her parents were married almost two years…" he trailed off, looking stricken. "I _can't_ be her brother, and I've put you through this for nothing. I'm so very sorry, Jennet," he said, tears in his eyes.

"Oh, you're her brother, all right," Stefan said firmly. "You look enough like Drake that I can't believe I didn't see it. When's your birthday, son?"

Disciple recited his birth date automatically, still looking into Jennet's face, both of them streaked with tears.

"That's the right date," Stefan said, shrugging. "Be a bit too much of a coincidence, don't you think? It's easy enough to tell a child they're a year or two younger than they are, especially Force sensitives; they usually mature faster than the average child. It wouldn't be unusual for you to seem a bit of a protégé. And you're a strapping big lad, it confuses the issue as well. But we could settle it, right here. You're a physician, don't you have a testing unit around here somewhere?"

"I do," Disciple said, brightening.

He got up and trotted off, bringing back a small device. He stuck his hand in it, and it buzzed dully, indicating a successful acquisition of a sample. He held it out to Jennet, suddenly looking uncertain. She shook her head and smiled wanly, putting her own hand on the pad in turn. Then for good measure, he passed it to Stefan. The seconds ticked by, and the chime sounded. Disciple closed his eyes briefly, then opened them, scanning the data. He smiled hugely.

"It's positive," he said happily. "You're my sister. And Stefan is not our father."

"Oh. My. Gods," Jennet breathed, and fainted.


	19. Come to Order

In a room full of healers of various degrees, the rush to help Jennet was just short of pandemonium. Disciple immediately checked her vitals, his face set in professional mask, and nodded in relief, reporting it was a simple faint, and she should come around soon. Canderous glowered at him and Stefan impartially, and stood, his wife's dead weight cradled tenderly in his arms. I had to admire the amount of strength it took to rise so easily, encumbered as he was. The Mandalore growled about getting her some air and strode toward Disciple's bedchamber. I gave a short sign for everyone to stay put and gestured Visas and Revan to come with me. Disciple and Stefan both made to follow but I shook my head and they stopped, identical looks of worry and remorse stamped on their faces.

Canderous gently lay Jennet on the bed. She was already coming around, and I sent Revan for water and a cloth. Visas was checking her pulse, and I was tuning into both Jennet and Helen, relief flooding me when I found their vitals strong. Canderous was getting her boots off and rubbing her feet while Visas chafed her wrists. I tucked a pillow under her legs to keep her feet elevated.

"She's okay," the big Mandalorian said gruffly, the relief evident in his voice. "I can feel her, she's fine."

I was still monitoring her and Helen, and felt a trickle of power slowly being absorbed by them both; Canderous was giving his wife and child some of his own life force. I nodded reassuringly.

"Yes, she's fine," I confirmed as Jennet woke.

"What happened?" she said, trying to sit up, but Visas and I kept her down. Revan held out a damp cool cloth, and I used it to wipe Jennet's face, folding it and leaving it across her forehead. When a few minutes had passed, I let her up enough to sip some water, and seeing no signs of continuing dizziness, let her stay sitting, grabbing two more pillows to support her back. Revan took back the cloth and disappeared out the door.

"You fainted," Canderous rumbled menacingly. "Don't do that anymore."

"Not my first choice," Jennet said, smiling at her Mate. "But I can't promise anything." She looked around the room and asked, "How long was I out?"

"Just a few minutes," I said soothingly. "You're fine; so is the baby. Any cramping?"

Jennet shook her head.

"Dizziness? Nausea? Pain?"

"No," she said impatiently. "I feel fine. It's just…it was real, after I saw the blood test. Sort of threw me off balance. I'm okay now. Can I get up?"

"Not yet," Canderous said firmly.

I was certain it would be perfectly all right to let her stand, but I wasn't about to argue with a worried husband and father to be. So I shrugged, and nodded at the Mandalore.

"You should stay quiet for a while," I said, and Canderous sent me a grateful look. I noticed that he'd stopped trying to give Jennet strength, which I approved of; wouldn't do for her to have excess energy right now.

"I'm sorry for scaring you," Jennet said softly, and Canderous abandoned his spot at the foot of the bed and sat on the edge of the bed, leaning over to kiss her forehead. Visas scurried out of the way and followed Revan out the door.

"You had a shock," Canderous said quietly. "You're fine now. Don't apologize."

I left them alone, knowing that Canderous would let Jennet back out when he was good and ready, and joined the rest of our friends back in the living area. The low hum of worried conversations stopped and everyone looked at me expectantly.

"I'm sure Revan and Visas have already told you Jennet's fine," I said. "She is. Canderous doesn't want her to move for a bit, though."

"Can I see her?" Stefan and Disciple spoke in unison, looked at each other, then looked back at me.

"I wouldn't," I said firmly. "She's okay, but Canderous isn't too pleased with either of you right now. Leave well enough alone," I advised.

"I wish I hadn't said anything," Disciple said, looking close to tears. "I'm so very glad she's my sister, but…"

"If you hadn't, there's a good chance someone else might have found those records and brought it up," I said firmly. I wasn't at all sure of that now, but it was done; no point in anyone beating themselves up. "It could have been far worse."

"I only found it by accident," Disciple said miserably. "There was so little to go on when I was trying to find out where I had come from. About a month ago, I had a brainstorm that maybe I was the product or at least a relative of a Jedi. I'd seen enough cases of pregnancies hushed up and the child raised by the Order that I thought it was possible. I crossed matched my samples against all the records I could find and came up with Master Stefan about two weeks ago. I was shocked, of course, and wanted to confront him right away, but I wanted the whole story, or at least as much as I could find." He looked at Stefan pleadingly. "I…well, I wanted enough information to determine if you were lying when I did ask you about it. I apologize for that," he said, and Stefan gave him a ghost of a smile.

"I understand," the older man said. "Must have been a hell of a surprise." Disciple nodded, smiling wanly.

"In my search, I stumbled across the record that said you sired a child on Miranne Organa," he continued. "Of course I recognized the name at once, so I entered Jennet's blood sample, and…" he gulped, as close to completely falling apart as I'd ever seen him. "I didn't know _what_ to think. And Jennet…she was far enough along that I didn't want to say anything, not until I knew for certain what had happened. And you were gone," he said, looking at me sadly. "I wanted to talk to you about it before I went to Master Stefan."

"I'm glad you did," I said gently. "It's all right Mical, really. It's your life, too. And Jennet would have been furious with you if she found out about it later, you know that."

"Yes," he said soberly. "She would have."

"Bet your ass," Jennet said cheerfully from the doorway of the bedroom. Canderous was behind her, the dim light of the room making him a large shadowy outline looming over her. "I would have been _really_ pissed if Helen never knew her uncle," she added, walking over to Disciple and taking his hands.

"I'm sorry for causing you distress," he said quietly.

"I'm sorry we didn't get to grow up together," Jennet said softly. "And I'm most sorry you didn't get to know our parents. They loved you, I'm sure of that. I wish they had told me. If I'm angry about anything, it's about that. I can't imagine why they never did. And why didn't _you_ tell me, Stefan?" she turned toward her uncle, scowling, but not letting go of her brother.

"I was respecting your parents' wishes," Stefan said carefully. "When I met you again, after Miranne was gone, I did sound you out, but it was obvious you'd never been told. I gave it some time, debating whether I should speak up, and got to know you very well, and understood why." He went on to explain what he had told Disciple and me, Disciple chiming in with how he had found the evidence.

Canderous steered Jennet back to their couch while they talked, and made her sit. He had stopped glaring at Stefan and Disciple, but I suspected it was more to spare Jennet than anything else. At Jennet's gesture, Disciple sat on the floor next to them, holding her spare hand; the other was tucked around her Mate's arm.

"At the risk of bringing up awkward subjects, I had intended to tell you once we were married," Stefan concluded. "I had continued looking for your brother all these years, and had no intention of leaving you in the dark forever. I understood you well enough to know that you would devote your life to finding your lost sibling. I thought…well, if you had me supporting your search, maybe it wouldn't be so bitter when we failed, and if we started a family, you could put it behind you. Not give up, so much as…prioritize. You wouldn't neglect a husband and family, but you _would_ give up your own chance at permanence and a life of your own. But…the Order intruded on us, and my opportunity for telling you was gone."

"What gave you or my parents any right at all for deciding what I would or would not do?" Jennet asked, her voice dangerously quiet.

"Come off it, my dear," Stefan said, smiling. "Are you honestly going to tell me we were wrong?"

Jennet stared at him a long minute, scowling. Finally, she gave a short laugh, shaking her head. "I suppose you're right," she admitted. "I probably would have."

"Part of love," Atton said unexpectedly, "Is protecting those you love most from themselves."

Jennet looked at him, but he was looking at me. I smiled at her, then shifted my gaze to Atton's face.

"Sometimes," I said, touching his cheek. He turned his head a fraction and kissed my fingertips.

"What a mess we make with love," Jennet said ruefully. "It's a wonder anyone does." She looked at her newfound brother and grinned. "But I have you, now. And that's worth all of it. It's funny, isn't it? Remember when you called Canderous and me family? Sure you aren't a Seer?"

"I'm certain," Disciple said gravely. He looked up at Canderous, his blue eyes serious. "I hope I haven't spent all my credit with you. I apologize for upsetting your wife."

The Mandalorian looked back soberly. "Apology accepted. Brothers are allowed some leeway; gods know mine used to drive me crazy. Welcome to the family, son." He held out his hand, and Disciple shook it over the living mound of Jennet's belly.

"She kicked," Jennet said, her face lighting up. "Helen says hello, too," and she burst into tears, throwing herself at Disciple, who caught her with a muffled "Oof."

Everyone watched the reunited family clinging to each other, Jennet sobbing happily, Canderous and Disciple exchanging looks of male tolerance over her head. Disciple embraced her carefully, as if expecting her to burst like a soap bubble, but Jennet hugged him fiercely to her, sitting a little sideways so as not to squash the baby. He gave up and held her firmly, rubbing her back and making soothing noises.

"Get used to it," Canderous said sympathetically to his brother in law. "She cries at anything nowadays."

Disciple chuckled. "It's a little late to be asking what your intentions are to my sister, I suppose," he joked, and amazingly, Canderous laughed. Jennet looked up, glared at them both, and turned to look at Stefan, who was standing apart, looking a little forlorn.

"Oh, come here, you," Jennet said, and Stefan swiftly made his way to the three of them. Jennet stood, and hugged her uncle. "You did what you thought was right," Jennet said. "I might not agree with it, but I forgive you. It's okay now. And you have a nephew."

"I do," he said softly. "And a better one I couldn't ask for." He held his hand out to Disciple, and they shook solemnly.

"Thank you Sir," Disciple said formally.

"Call me Uncle Stefan," said the older Jedi, and they smiled, a little shyly. Then Stefan turned to Canderous. "I realize you never liked me much, and I don't blame you for it," he said quietly. "But I hope some day, we can be friends. I am sorry for upsetting Jennet, and causing you alarm. If nothing else, believe I always have Jennet's welfare at heart."

Canderous stared hard at the smaller man, his face blank, which on him was rather menacing. He nodded shortly. "If I didn't believe that," he growled, "I would have broken your nose earlier. And your knees," he added. "Lucky for you, you aren't her father, or there wouldn't have been anything left to bury."

"I assure you Jennet's parentage was never in any doubt," Stefan said stiffly. "I would never have…"

"Shut up." Canderous interrupted him. Stefan snapped his mouth closed, the tips of his ears pink. "I've heard enough about that today. You've proven you have honor. And Jennet loves you. We have no quarrel. But now, it's late, and I need to get my wife to bed."

I saw Jennet give Canderous a swift look, but she didn't protest as they made their goodnights and headed home.

The next two days were spent with the Order ironing out new laws, discussing finances, structure, and function. As I had predicted, Masters Quatz and Geru were appointed treasurers and given the task of ascertaining the extent of the Order's wealth, drafting a budget to sustain all members adequately, and a plan of income that would expand as the Order took in new recruits. We also wanted to restore the Dantooine conclave eventually; that would require credits as well. For now, we agreed to pull back to Coruscant and concentrate on maintaining those headquarters.

During our closed sessions, Dustil had approached his father about becoming Jedi. Neither Revan nor I were present, but Annie reported the next day that Carth approved and was bursting with pride that his son would be joining our ranks. He was concerned, of course, of the Republic fleet causing problems, but was reassured that the Order would smooth things over in that regard. Mission was also proud of her fiancé, and Revan was planning on introducing Jennet and Dustil simultaneously to the Order. Jolee had already held his vigil, passed his tests with flying colors, and was now officially a Master.

Three days after Disciple's shocking revelation, Jennet and Dustil were brought to the meeting, along with their families. Both were given skills tests to determine the level of training they already possessed, although the more physical aspects were waived in Jennet's case due to her condition. There were a few sideways looks directed at her from Windor and Quatz, among others; a pregnant initiate was something new. But she performed brilliantly and no one could deny her skill. Dustil also scored amazingly well. He had had Force training on Korriban, of course, and had kept up the exercises Revan had taught him after his escape from the Sith. Tests complete, the two hopefuls stood before the Order, awaiting the verdict.

Stefan stood, his face professionally pleasant, and eyed his niece and Dustil benignly. "It is the opinion of the Masters," he said in a clear carrying voice, "that the initiates Jennet Jax Ordo and Dustil Morgan Onasi be welcomed into the ranks of the Jedi Order."

The cheer that went up among the crowd drowned out any attempt for him to continue, and Stefan smiled, waiting patiently. When the last whoop died, he spoke again.

"Dustil, you are much advanced from the usual Padawan. However, we feel you need more instruction before being Knighted. Therefore, Jolee Bindo has requested you be assigned to him as his pupil. We have granted this request."

Dustil beamed at the older man, who smiled back. I could see the wheels turning in Jolee's head, mentally rolling up his sleeves and ready to whip the boy into shape. I grinned at both of them, and saw Annie with an identical expression looking between the two. I saw Mission with tears of pride in her eyes, and Carth was smiling so large that I thought his face might crack. At a gesture, Dustil went to sit at the Padawan table, with everyone shifting to make room and add a chair.

"Jennet," Stefan said, turning his attention to the petite woman. "Yours is a unique situation. You parents, myself, Ladria, and Jolee have all given you instruction, and you have amazing aptitude and retention. In addition, your healing skills surpass anything we've encountered, even your mother's. In your current state of advanced pregnancy, we of course cannot test that for the record, but testimony more than suggests this is the case. Not to mention that your fighting skills are beyond anyone in this room."

Jennet started at that, looking at Stefan with surprise. He nodded briefly at her, confirming his assessment, and she flushed with pleasure. I recalled that Jennet had always maintained that Miranne was even better at healing than she was, and had doubted it myself. But she never would take that seriously.

"The Masters have granted you the rank of Knight," he went on, but was immediately drowned out by the applause and cheers that erupted from the Padawan table as the Ebon Hawk crew, past and present, leaped to their feet in tribute. Jennet stood in the center of the triangle of tables, smiling radiantly, but her eyes sought Canderous. He was standing quietly next to Carth, applauding too, and I saw him nod to her, pride in every line of his body. I noted the moment of stillness as he communicated with his wife, and the pure happiness that flit across Jennet's face. Finally, the uproar died down, and Stefan was able to finish his announcement.

"This status allows you to function independently within the Order," Stefan said. "However, as your instruction has been less balanced than is ideal, we agree with Master Ladria's assessment that you are still in need of one-on-one training with an assigned Master. Revan will continue your training, with occasional instruction from various Masters as is deemed necessary. We expect with a year or less training, you will be ready to be promoted to Master. With that in mind, we have asked Revan to remain with you until your child is born, and you leave with your husband to join the Republic."

I shot a look at Carth, who seemed unsurprised at this, and Annie caught my eye as I turned my attention to her. She smiled serenely, and nodded at me. Apparently, she had discussed this with her fiancé, and Carth approved. I made a mental note to talk to them both. I had known this was being debated, but not the outcome, and wondered how this would affect their wedding plans.

After Jennet was seated at the head of the table of Padawan, Stefan called, "Admiral Carth Onasi, will you please stand forth?"

Carth looked mystified, but approached the podium at Annie's nod. I shot a suspicious glance at her, but she wore the blankest face she owned, which rivaled Atton's.

Stefan regarded the Admiral with calm assessment. "It is the opinion of the Order that the Force runs strongly through your family. Dustil is an ideal candidate, and we are pleased at his request to join and subsequent acceptance into our ranks. However, it has been noted for some time that you yourself are sufficiently Force sensitive to qualify for training. With the recent lifting of age restrictions, we offer you a place in the Order."

Carth stood absolutely still, staring at Stefan, then shifting his gaze to Annie. She smiled encouragingly, but did not seem to be pushing him either way. Carth blinked at her, then nodded.

"I am aware of the honor you offer me," he said carefully, every inch the Admiral. "But I have a job, and the Republic needs experienced leaders."

"We agree," Stefan said smoothly. "Under your unique circumstances, there need not be a conflict with your current position and Jedi training. The Republic, we believe, would welcome an admiral that is also Jedi. It is not unprecedented," he added, with a glance at Revan and me. "We would not normally assign a Master to a new Padawan that has as close as ties as you and Revan, but under the circumstances, we would allow the bulk of your instruction to be with your fiancé. And we want Master Ladria to train you as well."

"With due respect," I said, getting to my feet, "I have five Padawan now. I have no objection to training Carth if he wishes it, but I cannot neglect my current students any longer."

"This will be addressed," Stefan said dismissively. "For now, we realize that Admiral Onasi may wish to think on this before accepting or declining our offer."

"Are you certain that this can be accomplished without neglecting my duty to the Republic?" Carth asked.

To all our surprise, Will Cantor, who had been all but forgotten as he stood quietly on the sidelines, stepped forward. "Admiral, I think you should do this." He faced Stefan and bowed. "May I address the Order?"

"By all means," Stefan said, and Will moved to stand next to Carth.

"Admiral Onasi is one of the finest leaders the Republic has to offer," Will said with an intensity I had not yet seen from this quiet man. "and the most modest. He hardly speaks of his own accomplishments and always gives the credit due others. He is quick to assess strengths and weaknesses and share his own talents for the betterment of the whole. And he is a rare man of action who knows when to be patient. In my humble opinion, if he accepts this offer, he would be an ideal example for future recruitment. And his absolute devotion to the Republic, along with his status of Hero of the same, is an inspiration not only to the common man, but the Jedi Order as well. The Jedi reputation has reached a certain level of suspicion and fear among the masses. Admiral Onasi could help immensely in bridging the gap between the average person and their perceptions of Jedi."

"Will, I'm hardly a saint," Carth protested with a chuckle. "But thanks."

"I find it a most honest and well delivered assessment," Stefan said, smiling at the admiral. "And you, Will Cantor, are most articulate. I sense a strong connection to the Force within you, as well. Would you consider being tested?"

"Me?" Will said with complete shock. "I…" he paused, swallowing. "I am aware of the honor, Master Stefan, but I've never aspired to be Jedi. Wouldn't the Order have found me when I was a child, if I had the ability?"

"You're how old, Major Cantor? Twenty eight?" Stefan asked casually.

"Thirty," he answered, looking at Stefan quizzically.

"And Carth Onasi is considerably your senior, if you'll forgive the observation," the acting Chairman pointed out smoothly with a smile at Carth. The admiral grinned back, unoffended. "We're not infallible; we miss good recruits rather regularly. Carth's destiny did not lay with the Jedi for much of his life. Perhaps your talent went unnoticed for a reason."

Will stared around the room, taking in the encouraging faces of the Order. His eyes went to Carth, who nodded at him genially.

"I will submit to testing, of course," Will said finally. "And decide from there."

"Excellent," Stefan said warmly. He focused on the older man. "Admiral Onasi, take your time on thinking about our offer; we don't expect an answer today."

"Thank you, Master Stefan," Carth said carefully, "but I have made up my mind; I accept."

If this surprised anyone, they didn't show it. The cheers at the acceptance of the latest recruit rang through the hall, and all of the Order rose to their feet, applauding. Honest admiration of this man shone on everyone's face as the object of it stood before us, looking rather embarrassed at the attention and accolades. Annie grinned at her fiancé, and when the applause died down, he joined the Padawan table, sending a swift grin at his daughter, now standing between Will and Canderous, looking at her family with pride. I regretted that Mission wasn't Force sensitive enough to recruit; she would have made a wonderful Jedi otherwise. She didn't seem upset at her exclusion, however.

When the shuffling and conversation died to a dull murmur, Stefan tapped his gavel and called everyone back to attention. "Will the Padawan of Master Ladria Windbreak please stand, as well as Jarn Xavier?" he instructed. The scrape of six chairs was the only sound in the room. "You have all shown exceptional progress under your Master's tutelage," Stefan said quietly. "I have conferred with the Masters and it is agreed that the six of you are ready for Knighthood. Hold your vigils tonight; we will have the ceremony in the morning."

The joy on the faces of my Padawan and Jarn made my throat hurt. Even Atton, who was the least awed by Jedi tradition, was overwhelmed; I could tell by the utter lack of expression. He managed to break through the calls of congratulations and applause to address the Chairman.

"Not that all of us are unaware of the honor, Master Stefan, but isn't there tests of some sort?" he asked, and all the Padawan looked at the head table expectantly.

"Oh yes," Stefan smiled brightly. "And you have all passed them. Jedi Jarn has a most impressive testimony from Masters Gru and Sharika. And all of us have observed the five of you," he waved a hand at my pupils, "for the last six months. You five have done more to keep the Order together than any of us; you have kept the faith when we were ready to falter. We have noted your abilities throughout; do you not recall your tests? We are more than satisfied with your progress. Your Master has done well. Congratulations."

The next morning, my pride knew no bounds as I watched Atton, Bao Dur, Mira, Visas, Disciple, and Jennet receive their Knighthood. All of them, even Jennet, had constructed their own light sabers in my absence, although Jennet still carried her father's short blue one along with the bright golden yellow she had crafted, the same color of her late mother's. Bao Dur's was a huge double-sided design of deep emerald green, while Mira had somehow managed to find an amber one that flashed the topaz of her eyes when wielded. Disciple, more traditional, had chosen a yellow crystal, lighter than Jennet's, and Visas' was a dark violet. Atton's was deep blue, of course, and I looked down on the silver and blue crystals of my engagement ring in reflex.

As they stood, Knights of the Jedi Order, I applauded louder than anyone, tears clogging my throat. They had come so far; so had we all. All Revan and I had hoped for had come to pass. The Order was back.


	20. Knightly Interludes

The celebration that followed was a curious mix of restrained merriment. The new Knights and Master were unabashedly jubilant, the two new Padawan quietly pleased, the rest of the Order flexing between the two. Father and son were talking with an expansive Jolee in a corner, who was gesturing broadly as he spoke. Revan was nearby, talking to Stefan, and most of the rest of the Masters were in clumps here and there, shifting as members broke away to speak to someone straying by. I was with my former Padawan, sharing a glass of celebratory champagne. Danni was sitting on Bao Dur's shoulders, solemnly watching the strangers around her. Megari was hovering nearby and I hooked my arm through hers, handing her a flute of bubbly wine.

"We're a little overwhelming in quantity," I murmured sympathetically. "But Jedi are just people, you know."

Megari smiled, her purple eyes holding a touch of wistfulness. "I know," she said softly. "It's just…well, it's sort of a family, yes? I don't remember mine. I imagine it was a lot like this when I was with the troupe my parents raised me in. Lots of different personalities, not always in agreement, but standing together when it counts. You know, everyone has that irritating uncle that drinks too much and tells the same boring stories, the fussy cousin…" her eyes roamed around the room. "I'm so used to Bao Dur and the rest of you that it's a little strange seeing more…traditional Jedi around, I guess."

"They don't bite," I laughed gently. "And they adore your daughter already."

"Yes," Megari looked half-pleased, half-frightened at that.

I looked at her shrewdly. "You're afraid they'll take her away, aren't you?"

Megari nodded silently, her large eyes solemn. "I want to do right by her, but…"

"I won't let them do anything you're not ready for," I said firmly. "And if you choose to allow her to train at the Conclave, but want to stay here on Dxun, I promise you will be able to visit as often as you like, and Danni will be able to come back regularly, too. Or if you prefer, you can live on Coruscant to be near her."

Megari was cheered by my reassurances, and joined in the congratulations, sipping her wine. Bao Dur reached back without looking and snagged her hand, drawing her forward into the circle of their friends. Mira dragged me in the center of our crowd, offering a toast to the Master that trained them. Embarrassed, I protested that I hadn't even been present for the last six months.

"True," Disciple said comfortably, "but your teachings got us here. How many Padawan make Knight in little more than a year?"

"Just goes to show how desperate the Order is," Atton quipped.

"Or smart," I said sweetly. "They admitted _you_ to keep you from taking up a life of crime…again."

"You wound me," Atton said dramatically, clapping a hand over his heart. "I'm a reformed man; you said so."

"_You_ said so; _I_ reserved judgment," I laughed.

"Wise of you," my fiancé said with a roguish grin. "I'm feeling decidedly the scoundrel. Excuse us."

With that, he handed our glasses to Visas, tossed me over his shoulder, and strode out of the room, to the cheers and catcalls of our friends. I considered being irritated; I loathe being put off my dignity. But he was being so Atton that I found myself laughing while ineffectually struggling to get down. He got me to the lift and before the door was even closed had trapped me against the wall and was kissing me so thoroughly I lost any sense of direction or propriety. Thankfully, the hall was deserted when we reached our floor. I felt him shift and shove a foot in the lift door to keep it from closing as he scooped me back up and carried me into his apartment.

"I am thy Knight, and you my Lady, I serve thee with my sword and my honor," he whispered in my ear when the door slid shut behind us. "I carry your favor, and challenge all others, for you are the master of my heart."

"It's 'mistress'," I corrected, twinkling up at him.

"I like my way better," Atton said, and kissed me again.

--------------------------------------------------------------

It was getting toward Danni's bedtime, and the little girl was starting to yawn; Bao Dur could feel the change in her breathing as she sat comfortably on his shoulders. Catching Megari's eye, he effortlessly eased the child down and set her on her feet. She immediately rubbed her eyes and looked up at him soulfully. Smiling, he swung her back up, letting her cuddle against his broad chest. She sighed deeply and closed her eyes, absently patting his cheek with one chubby hand. His heart turned over as Megari reached his side.

"Your General has left," she teased gently, "I think it's safe to go ourselves, if you don't mind carrying Danni for me?"

"Of course not," he answered, smiling down at her.

They said their goodnights and made their way out into the cool evening air. Bao Dur was used to the constant humidity, but once the sun went down, it was actually rather pleasant. He wondered how Megari managed with her thick mane of dark hair and silently thanked the Force that he had none. But he would hate for her to cut it; on the rare occasions she left it loose it was a glorious shining sheath of sable that reached nearly her hips. He wondered it if was as soft to the touch as it looked.

Arms full of little girl, he couldn't take Megari's hand as he might have wished, but he did notice she walked close beside him. The thought that she enjoyed his nearness as much as he did hers warmed him.

"I haven't congratulated you personally," Megari said, looking at him sideways with those marvelous purple eyes. "I'm proud of you, Bao'uhr Du'hcsk," she added softly in Iridoni.

The inflection she used in his language was that of one friend to another, warm, with a hint of something more. A small opening, to be sure; a door just slightly ajar. He had shared his true Name with her just after the General had left, and having been raised by an Iridonian couple from the age of three, she certainly understood the implications of that trust. Megari didn't possess the correct vocal cord structure to be completely proficient in the subtleties of his native language, but she was amazingly adept.

"I thank you, Me'gari C'sank," he answered in the same language. "Your approval means much to me."

The fact that he had addressed her by her Iridoni name, and not the one she had adopted upon her marriage to Danni's father was significant, but not out of bounds of simple friendship. It was a cautious acknowledgement of the opening she had presented.

She looked up at him, amused. "How can I not approve of one who is so solicitous of me and my daughter?" she asked, the liquid syllables almost musical. "Danni adores you."

_As do I._

The undertones of her casual statement sent a fissure of pleasure down his spine, and the child stirred a little. He rocked the little girl gently, and she subsided into slumber again.

"She is difficult to resist," Bao Dur said warmly. "She is as beautiful and charming as her mother."

It was an honest statement, but he was careful with his inflections. He had known the first time he saw her that this was the woman that made him complete. He still loved his General, oh yes. Their time together had been one of perfect beauty and understanding; they had both known when and how it would end. For that brief week, he had been whole. But it had been easy, almost too easy, to fall back to their accustomed roles Padawan and Master, friends with no expectations. A corner of his heart would always belong to Ladria. The rest of it became Megari's the first time she looked at him with suspicious violet eyes. Then Danni had with one tiny fist had squeezed it until it not exploded, but expanded until it was full to overflowing.

It was one thing to know without a doubt that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with another person. It was quite another to convince them of the same. It had only been nine months since they met; he was a patient man. This wasn't the first time she had made minor overtures; he had voiced a few himself, as well. But it had always been a careful exchange; each sounding the other out, establishing trust and ties. A chaste kiss on cheek or forehead, a lingering touch as they said goodnight. It was easy to put his arm around her casually, or hold her hand; they had done that from almost the first. She was comfortable with him; it was a start.

She didn't answer, but smiled at him again, opening the door of her cottage. Squeaky immediately bounced out and Megari waited for the gizka to take care of his business while Bao Dur took Danni inside. With the ease of one accustomed to his surroundings, he navigated through the darkened rooms, hearing Megari behind him pausing to light a lamp. Danni's room was open and he nudged the door aside with one booted foot, placing the sleepy child on the low bed. Megari entered, Squeaky at her heels, swiftly coaxed her daughter into a nightdress and kissed her goodnight, tucking the covers lightly around her. The gizka curled up at the child's feet, already snoring.

"Kiss Bao Dur, too," Danni demanded around a huge yawn.

Bao Dur froze, for a moment certain that she meant for Megari to kiss him. He ached for her to do just that, but unraveled the half-dreaming childspeak in time not to make an utter fool of himself. He folded his tall form in half and kissed the child on the cheek, murmuring a charm for sweet dreams in his language. She answered back in the same tongue, and surrendered utterly to the mattress.

"I love how boneless children are when they're sleeping," Megari whispered in the dark. The Galactic Basic was almost jarring after the subtleties of Iridoni. "It's been centuries since I could do that."

"I know what you mean," he answered softly. "I don't think I ever have."

They left quietly together, making their way downstairs to Megari's cozy living area. It was comfortable and soothing, done in bright jewel tones and various wood grains, easy to clean and child friendly. It was one of the few places he didn't feel a hulking giant; most of the furniture was oversized and sturdy, enabling him to stretch his legs. He nodded at her offer of tea and sat on the couch. Sitting back, he closed his eyes and tried to get a handle on what Megari was thinking. There was something different about her tonight.

More often than not, they would spend their evenings together, usually preceded by dinner, sharing the family atmosphere of clean up and putting Danni to bed. He liked to just spend time with the both of them, sharing bits of their day. A couple times a week, one or more of his fellow Jedi joined them. Atton and Disciple were most regular, but sometimes Mira and Dax or Visas, usually with Jarxel. The cottage had become, to a certain extent, the touchstone for everyone, a place they could relax and feel like part of a family. And everyone, of course, adored Danni. But despite the hints his friends had dropped, inviting him to share what else went on in Megari's house, there was nothing to report. Not that he would, in any case; they teased, but respected his privacy. He heard her approaching by the faint chime of shifting crockery and opened her eyes.

"What happens now?" Megari asked as she set the tea tray on the low table and seated herself next to him. "Will you be moving to Coruscant?"

"I don't have any plans to," he answered, surprised. "I suppose a lot of what will happen depends on Revan's and the General's reports. I sense a mission coming; who will go is anybody's guess right now."

"Where do you think Ladria might go?" Megari asked casually, fixing him his tea and handing him the mug.

"What do you mean?" Bao Dur asked.

"After she and Atton get married, after this mission you sense, where do you think they will go?"

"Coruscant, I expect," he said, puzzled by her questions. "It's where Jedi headquarters are. And later, possibly Dantooine. When they're ready to rebuild that conclave, I'll probably be involved. Why?"

She looked at him, head slightly cocked to one side, face serene as always, but a slight shadow in her eyes. "I just wondered…where your General goes, will you?"

_Do you have anything to stay for, and will you let her go?_

The meaning of her vocal inflection hit him loud and clear, and he blinked at her. Smiling slowly, he answered, eyes not leaving her carefully neutral face.

"If the General asks me to follow, I will. She doesn't ask for things lightly. But I don't expect her to uproot me without reason. I doubt it will be a requirement for all Jedi to live on Coruscant."

_I will follow my duty to my leader, my Order, and my friend. I have reason to stay, but she would not be my reason to go._

He saw her relax slightly, taking a sip of her tea. "When do you think the weddings will be?" There was less of a clear inflection in this question but he was listening carefully, and heard the uncertainty in her voice.

"If I had to guess, I would say within a week or two. Revan and Carth have waited five years, after all, and Atton…well, he's impatient to start his life with Ladria." He rarely used her name aloud, and was careful with his tone. Megari wasn't a fool; she understood his complex feelings toward his Master, and hers for him. It had not seemed to matter before. He allowed his inflection to ask why it did now.

"I'm pleased for everyone that the Order has changed its laws to allow marriage," Megari said thoughtfully. "Ladria and Atton aren't the only ones that will benefit. I'm half expecting Mira to announce her engagement to Dax any day now, or Visas and Jarxel."

_There is someone special for everyone. And now no one needs to choose._

It was so simple he almost laughed out loud. He had not wanted to push their friendship to a higher level until she was ready. The murder of her husband, her and Danni's enslavement by Falken Rikes, and the general degradation she had faced in that year had left scars; he had not wanted to rush her into anything. What he had failed to see was she was as perceptive and patient as he. _She _had been waiting too, for him to sort out his feelings for the General, and for the Order to allow him to court her. She hadn't wanted his loyalties divided.

"The Order was overdue for change," Bao Dur agreed, his bright blue eyes meeting hers with a light that he'd never before allowed her to see. "I think in time it will be much stronger than it was before. I never agreed with the edict against marriage."

_Things happen in the time they were meant to. I have waited for you; is that what you have done for me?_

A flicker in her own eyes gave him the answer he sought, and he set his mug on the tray, taking hers away as well, standing and drawing Megari to her feet. He felt a fine tremor running through her body like a low electric current and he tightened his grip on her hand slightly. She squeezed back, looking up and the force of those violet eyes made his heart skip a beat.

"Come outside with me," he invited, and saw her eyes widen in surprise. But she nodded, and he drew her behind him as they stepped through the door. She had a hanging swing on the porch, quaint and old fashioned, the beam it descended from discretely reinforced by solid durasteel; it could take the weight of a Hutt. He led her to this and leaned on the porch rail, peering up at the stars. She joined him at the rail, looking up at the night sky.

"Look," he said, pointing. "If you fly that direction, you will arrive at Coruscant in a little less than six hours with a good hyperdrive. Danni may be training there in a year or so; perhaps I will be too. If you choose to stay here, you can visit any time you want."

"I don't fly," she said wistfully.

"We should do something about that," he said, turning away from the stars and looking down at her with a smile. "It's a good skill to have."

His voice was light, but the inflections laced through his speech were powerful and provocative. He saw the shiver that dislodged a stray lock of hair that had come loose from her braid.

"Will you teach me?" she asked a little breathlessly as he stepped closer and tucked the strand behind her ear.

"I'd be happy to," he answered. "How did someone who is as good of a mechanic as you not learn to fly?"

"I learned from books, and my father," she confessed. "He taught me to strip down mechanical things and put them back together. But he didn't think it fitting for me to pilot a ship. I gave up asking why years ago."

"Short sighted of him," Bao Dur said reflectively. "You're a quick study; it won't take long to learn. It'll be fun, you'll see." He hadn't removed his hand and was absently stroking his thumb across her cheekbone.

"Are we still talking about flying?" her eyes were wide and nearly black in the moonlight.

"You are," Bao Dur observed, pulling her to him and gently tilting her chin up with his good hand. She brought her own up to his lips, stopping his progress.

"I'm not Ladria," she whispered.

"No," he said, kissing her fingertips and taking her hand in his. "But you are my master, Mi'shaa." He saw the endearment register before she closed her eyes and he was lost in the feel and scent of her. He kissed her then, and she was everything he'd imagined. She tasted of honey and vanilla and her mouth was a lush temptation that set his whole body tingling. Quite of its own volition, his artificial arm slipped around her waist and dragged her closer. His living hand let go of hers, cupping her face. Her arms reached up to wrap around his neck and he felt more than heard her soft moan of pleasure.

Without the slightest clue how he had gotten there, he found himself on the swing, Megari straddling his lap, their mouths fused in a kiss that had turned from sweet to blazing in the space of a heartbeat. Both his hands were in her hair, tugging it free of its plait. Then it fell in heavy waves, spilling in a concealing curtain around them. It was as soft as it looked.

"Will you stay?" Megari's voice was quiet when she pulled away long enough to ask. One finger traced the lines of the tattoos on his face.

"Are you sure?" he asked hoarsely. He wanted to more than he needed to breathe. She could hardly be unaware of her effect on him, sitting as she was. But he had to ask.

"More than anything in my life," she said simply. Smiling with a promise that made him shiver, she took his hand and led him into the house.

--------------------------------------

Jarxel took Visa's elbow in a protective grip as they made their way to his cottage on the Mandalore's estate. He knew full well she could see better than he, despite her lack of vision; she glided over the rough ground effortlessly. But he liked taking care of her and any excuse to touch her was all right by him. She smiled at him and moved a little closer, and he shifted to slide his arm around her waist. She fit just right under his arm, tall enough he didn't have to stoop.

"So you're a Knight now," he commented, letting her hear the pride he still found a tad difficult to express. He _was_ proud of her; he just didn't know exactly what this meant for them, and was too proud himself to ask.

"It's merely a title," she said serenely. "An honor, certainly, but it means only what one chooses."

He stopped, turning to look at her in the darkness. "So it means nothing to you?"

"Oh no," she corrected, "it means everything to me. And nothing."

"You're speaking in riddles again, woman," Jarxel growled, resuming his pace.

"Perhaps you're trying too hard to understand," was her only answer.

He said nothing, and she didn't seem to require comment. After a time, he spoke again. "Will you be leaving soon, then?" It was an effort to keep his voice light.

"I won't be going until you do," she said quietly, answering his unspoken plea. "We have some time."

He was silent for the rest of the walk. Once inside the little house, he lit a couple of lamps as she disappeared into the kitchen. She reemerged with a small bottle of Tatooine firewhiskey and two glasses on a tray, which she set on a table in front of the couch. She had developed a taste for it, although she rarely drank more than a glass or two. Pouring two fingers each, she raised hers in a toast.

"To Knighthood," she said, smiling, and he echoed her words. They sipped and sat back.

"What do you See?" he asked suddenly, his dark eyes fixed on her face. "For us?"

"You are as much a Seer as I am," she pointed out.

"You're a damn sight better at it than me," he rumbled, oblivious of the pun.

"Yes," she said thoughtfully, "but you're much improved."

"Hell, little Danni's more adept than I am," he sighed. "I still only get flashes from time to time."

"You're just not used to being able to voice your visions," Visas said softly. "You hid your talent so long that it's difficult to let it reign. Your culture is not as comfortable with prophecy as mine. But then, I could envy you that."

He stared at her, surprised. "What in the galaxy _for_?"

"You do not deny your visions," she said, taking another sip of her whiskey. "But you can deny you have them, and act upon your knowledge only when it is necessary. I am expected to know things, and the only power I have is to choose not to speak."

He thought about that for a while, sipping his drink, and pouring them each another. He was grateful she wasn't the sort to talk simply to fill the silence. He loved his Lady, but would be driven mad in a day with her cheerful chatter, and occasionally wondered at Canderous' stoic acceptance of his wife's outgoing nature. Visas and her serenity were much more comfortable.

"Is it bad, then?" he asked, coming to the conclusion she hadn't said.

"I cannot say," her voice was troubled. "You know that I rarely See clearly when it comes to myself."

"Ah, well," he shrugged. They both were matter of fact about fate; it shouldn't trouble them now. "We have time, yes? You said so."

He set his glass down, and moved closer. She followed suit, and met him halfway. Her kiss was full of promise and a wildness that no one else would have suspected of her, but he had always known. Losing themselves in each other, they spoke no more.

-----------------------------------------------

Mira sat on the pile of blankets she and Dax had hauled up to the flat-topped ridge not far from the Mandalore's house, listening to the sounds of the jungle. Dax was nearby, setting the last of the transmitters that kept the predators at bay. She had wanted to celebrate her promotion to Knight out in the open, under the stars. Dax, who preferred the outdoors far more than being cooped up inside, was more than happy at this arrangement.

He waited patiently until she was done meditating and smiled at him with those oddly beautiful amber eyes. She reached for his hands and drew him closer.

"I'm a Knight," she said happily. "Who would have thought?"

"You sell yourself short, cyar'ika," Dax said, smiling at her enthusiasm. "I never had any doubts. How long until Master?"

He was still unsure of Jedi customs, and Mira was unorthodox to say the least. Jennet wasn't much better as a source of information for that matter; she knew a lot about Jedi ways, but had hardly been raised traditionally. When it came right down to it, the most informed all the Jedi he was friendly with was Disciple, aside from Ladria, whom he still felt a little in awe of. He didn't mind his own ignorance, but knew that Mira cared more than she was willing to admit.

"Who cares?" she shrugged. "Ladria thinks another year, maybe. Whenever; I don't mind going one step at a time. I'd have to train another Jedi Padawan once I make Master, and I'm not ready for that yet," she said honestly. "I still need to find my own talent, anyway."

"You're talented enough for me," Dax teased, running a hand suggestively down her side.

She grinned at him and kissed his nose. He was constantly surprised at her easy manner with him, but then, she _had_ been a captive of the Mandoa as a child. The general stoic nature of the Mandalorians didn't faze her in the slightest. She was a good deal like Jennet in that regard. He was also surprised at his own lightheartedness when he was with her; she made him want to say and do things that no one else could coax out of him.

"I'm glad of that," she said, giggling a little, making such a show of being coy it was a caricature. He laughed and pulled her closer.

She snuggled against him with a sigh of pleasure and kissed him with the breathless enthusiasm of her nature. Then she pulled away a little, looking down at his face. Her eyes flashed catlike in the dim glow of the single portable lamp at the foot of their makeshift bed.

"I meant," she said seriously, and he sighed a little at her change of mood, "everyone seems to have a particular skill but me. Ladria is a leader and healer, Visas is a Seer, Bao Dur can build anything. Atton has this incredible mind control; he doesn't talk about it but I can sense it. Disciple can do so many things, but mostly is best at research and finding answers. Jennet heals and fights better than anyone, Carth is a soldier and diplomat, Revan is a master manipulator and incredible at strategy."

"You didn't mention Dustil," Dax said with amusement, sitting back a little. When Mira starts talking like this, it was best to just let her get it out.

"He's a Padawan; he has time to figure it out," Mira said dismissively. "But I'm a Knight, now; shouldn't I know what I'm good at?"

"The Prophecy called you a hunter," Dax pointed out, suddenly as serious as she. "That is an admiral skill."

"I suppose," she said doubtfully.

"Disciple can find answers," he sat back, pulling her with him so she leaned up against his chest. "You find people. Perhaps your task is to find more of the lost Order."

"I don't think there are any more," she said sadly. "Surely they would have come forward by now?"

"Maybe," Dax shrugged. "Maybe not. A half a score and four doesn't necessarily mean the only ones left. It could be the only ones known."

"When did you get so good at prophecy?" Mira asked, smiling up at him. "I wasn't aware it was a Mandalorian trait to put much stock in them."

"No," he said comfortably. "But it _is_ the Jedi way. I haven't been walking around the last nine months with my eyes closed. I watch, and I see."

"Interesting you know the difference," Mira said, leaning back and inviting a kiss. He obliged. "It's the same with listening," she added when they came up for air. "It's more than just hearing."

"A warrior learns to do both, or he doesn't last in battle," Dax said simply.

"True," Mira said quietly, leaning back against him again. They sat in silence a while, each in their own thoughts. Finally, she asked softly, "When I leave, will you wait for me?"

"I'll be with my Mandalore and Lady," he answered, just as soft. "We both have our battles."

"I didn't ask if you'll live," she said sharply. She didn't want to think about that right now. "I asked if you'll wait."

"As long as it takes," he promised.

------------------------------------------------

He had a better head for spirits than he used to, but Disciple was finding the champagne ever so slightly intoxicating and found he had to concentrate to keep his speech steady. Drawing on the training Ladria had taught him, he let a little of his healing flow and immediately the slight buzz backed off. The hall was half empty now and he said his goodnights, heading to the lift. The door had already started to close when Master Stefan approached and slipped in.

"Well," the older man said genially as the lift started its smooth ascent, "that was possibly the most boring party I've been to in ages."

Disciple laughed; he couldn't help it. "I hardly would take you for the wild orgy sort," he joked before he could stop himself. He colored slightly and averted his gaze; it wasn't like him to say anything that vulgar. Perhaps he needed a little more healing after all.

To his surprise, Stefan laughed delightedly. "I'm not," he agreed, chuckling. "But you all just made Knighthood; I would have thought a little less restrained celebration was in order." He shook his head ruefully. "That was a dreadful pun."

Disciple peered closer at Stefan in concern. "Master Stefan," he asked cautiously, "are you drunk?"

"Not even close, son," he smiled, not at all offended. "The fact you have to ask should tell you that."

"I thought all Jedi learn to metabolize alcohol," Disciple said curiously. "It slows down the reflexes, inhibits control of the senses."

"We do," Stefan confirmed, "and if you learned from Ladria, I expect you could out drink anyone if you put your mind to it. But like any talent, some are better at it than others."

"I'm not as adept as she," Disciple said dryly. "But I manage."

Stefan looked at him shrewdly. "Has it ever occurred to you that you do that quite a lot?"

"What?" Disciple asked, puzzled.

"Manage," Stefan said, raising an eyebrow at him.

"I…" he stopped, perplexed. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"That's the trouble," Stefan said firmly. "I've never met anyone that needs a drink more than you. Come along," he said when the door opened, and Disciple followed, mystified.

Stefan's quarters were on the same floor as his own apartment, he knew. But to the newly Knighted Jedi's surprise, the Master stopped in front of Disciple's door. He waited as the younger man punched in his code and strode straight for the liquor cart as soon as the door opened.

"Have a seat," Stefan said casually over his shoulder.

"Help yourself," Disciple shot back ironically while the other man rummaged for glasses and a bottle.

"For a man who doesn't drink much, you have excellent taste," Stefan said in satisfaction when he unearthed a bottle of well-aged whiskey. "And expensive; this is far better than that rot they make on Tatooine. Never let a desert people make whiskey; they have no feel for it."

He poured out a healthy tot for both of them and sat opposite Disciple at the small dining table. "To the Knights of the Republic," he said, raising his glass.

"To the Order," Disciple answered, and they drank. The whiskey was smooth and only burned slightly. He eyed Stefan suspiciously. "Why have you really invaded my apartment?"

"Can't I get to know my long lost nephew better?" he asked innocently.

Disciple snorted.

"Perceptive lad," Stefan said approvingly. "You're right; I didn't barge in to get you drunk, although I maintain you could use it. But I rather thought you might have a few questions of your own, actually…that perhaps you might not want to ask in front of Jennet and her overly protective Mate?"

"I'm sure I have many," Disciple agreed, taking a large sip of his drink. "I can't think of a single one at this moment, however."

"That's where the whiskey comes in," Stefan grinned. "Lubricates the vocal cords and loosens the tongue."

"You sound experienced," Disciple observed sardonically.

"Well," he said consideringly, "yes and no. I am certainly well acquainted with good spirits and find their effect useful from time to time. But I make a deplorable drunk," he concluded positively. "Tried it once; it didn't take."

"Really?" Disciple asked with interest. "When was this?"

"Directly after leaving your sister," Stefan said soberly. "I crawled into a bottle for a few months to spite the Order. They took away the only thing that really mattered to me beyond their society; I thought to punish them by being utterly useless. But," he sighed, "they were wiser than I. The Council simply waited patiently for me to come out of my self-pity and spoke not one word about it after. Master Vandar understood me better than I understood myself, I'm afraid."

"I take it Jennet doesn't know about this?" Disciple asked rhetorically.

"No, and I'd rather she doesn't," Stefan said quietly. "By the time I saw her again, she had found Canderous. I took one look at the two of them and understood I had nothing to offer her but the love I had given her as a child. Which she will always have. I never was to her what Canderous is."

"No," Disciple said softly. "But she is to you, yes?"

Stefan smiled sadly. "You're a terrible romantic, Mical."

"You didn't answer the question."

He just quirked an eyebrow and downed the last of his drink.

"All right. It's none of my business, and I know you would never complicate Jennet's life any more than it is already. I withdraw the question." Disciple tried to take another sip, and discovered the glass was empty. Stefan helpfully refilled both glasses. "So what happens next with the Order?" Disciple changed the subject.

"We'll hear Revan's and Ladria's reports," Stefan said promptly. "I expect shortly after that, we'll elect Ladria as Chairman."

"Assuming she'll accept," Disciple said dryly.

"Oh, she will, this time," Stefan said with conviction.

"What makes you so sure?"

"She doesn't want it, that's true," the older man said. "But she's the best we've got. She's the best we ever had, really, I think, in a lot of ways. She knows her duty."

"That's not an answer," Disciple said irritably. "Do you ever answer a simple question?"

"Certainly," Stefan said with a smile. "If you ask the right one."

Disciple looked at him for a long minute, then asked abruptly, "Is it true you never stopped looking for me?"

Stefan leaned forward, looking him directly in the eye. "Never," he said, his blue eyes serious. "Miranne and Drake wanted you found. And I did, too. In a way, you're as much my son as theirs."

"Considering your past with my sister," Disciple said with an edge to his voice, "that's hardly a comfort."

Stefan winced, and sat up. "Point for you. If we're having this conversation, I definitely need more whiskey. Do drink up."

The two men drank in silence for a while, letting the soothing warmth of the whiskey gradually relax them. After a time, Stefan nodded. "All right, take your best shot," he said. "I'll answer anything you like."

"I know you're really not my father," Disciple said, almost to himself. "The blood test proved that. But I hoped you were, you know."

"I know," Stefan said soberly. "I'm afraid I'm the closest thing you have to a father, however. I am sorry for that," he said ruefully.

"Don't be," Disciple said quietly. "I'm sorry what I said. I've had a good life, on the whole. And it's not your fault how things turned out."

"I wish I could believe that," the older man said a touch bitterly. "Ah, well."

"Were you in love with my mother?" Disciple asked curiously.

Stefan looked at him, smiling faintly. "Jennet asked the same thing. The answer is still no. I loved her very much, and if Drake hadn't been so close to both of us, I might have fallen in love with her. Maybe. But, no, she was more a sister."

"Have you ever been in love…besides Jennet?" the question was quiet.

"No," Stefan said, and the younger man could tell it was the unvarnished truth. "I hadn't expected to even with her. Jedi life didn't really lend itself to it; the Order was very strict. I expect I'm just shallow enough not to want that sort of feeling cluttering up my life."

"I don't think that's it," Disciple said shrewdly. "I think you just never allowed yourself to look. You said you didn't want anything less than what Miranne and Drake shared." The whiskey was working well, and he wasn't trying to metabolize it. It did have an amazing effect on inhibitions, he observed clinically.

"No, I didn't," Stefan said reflectively. "You certainly have a higher opinion of me than I do. Bless you, son." He tilted his glass and poured another round. "So what about you? Have you ever been in love?"

"No," Disciple said with a shake of his head. "I was raised in the Order, you know; they didn't encourage that sort of thing. And later, I never had time or permanence to consider it."

"Such practicality," Stefan said sadly, "in one so young."

"I'm almost thirty," Disciple said with some asperity. "Not so young. Although I'll have to get used to my true age; only a few days ago I thought I was two years younger. Besides, soldiering isn't a profession that lends itself to families. I couldn't court a girl without something to offer."

"Good gods, you're not a virgin, are you?" Stefan asked, struck by the thought.

Disciple flushed and retorted, "If you've ever spent time in the Republic Army, you would know it was unlikely I am," he ground out. "I've had women. I just haven't considered anything serious."

Stefan raised his hands in surrender. "I apologize; I wasn't casting aspirations on your manhood. It's awfully good whiskey," he said in explanation.

"All right," Disciple grumbled. "I'll let it pass. I assume by the question you haven't remained lily white yourself?"

"Not even a dingy gray," Stefan answered. "Although not recently."

Disciple managed not to ask if it was because of Jennet; he really didn't want to know.

"We have a war to attend to, in any case," Disciple said, shrugging. "No time for love."

"Oh, my dear nephew," Stefan said with a sad smile, "love is what makes war bearable. Don't let that little detail keep you from looking."

"I won't," he answered in sudden inspiration, "if you don't."

Stefan stared at him, smiling slowly. "Neatly caught in my own net," he said approvingly. "Well done."

"I thought so," Disciple said sagely.

"You're more Drake's son than you know," Stefan said, suddenly cheerful. "Now if I can just get you to quit 'managing', I'll consider my status as your honorary uncle well earned."

"I'll drink to that," Mical said with a grin.

----------------------------------------------------

Jennet undressed slowly for bed, pausing frequently to breathe deeply. No contractions, thank the Force, but she was very tired and the baby was restless. Canderous had gotten her boots off as soon as they closed the bedroom door and they were tossed carelessly in a corner. Breeches were a little less difficult, and the unfamiliar Jedi robes slid off her shoulders easily. She hung them up carefully in the wardrobe and slipped into a lightweight shirt that belonged to her husband. It was big enough that even in her bulky state, it gave her more than enough room to move.

"Tired, Wildcat?" Canderous asked as he came out of the 'fresher, a towel wrapped around his hips. She could smell him from here; soap and musk and man. She sighed happily and smiled at him.

"Yes," she said honestly. "But then I'm tired a lot lately. It's irritating as all hell," she groused.

"You should take a bath," he said gruffly. "It will relax you."

"By the time the tub is full, I'll be asleep," she grinned, thinking of the enormous sunken bathtub in their refresher. It was heavenly to soak in, but did take some time to fill.

"I have a better idea," Canderous said suddenly. "Put some shoes on and find a robe."

She stared at him, puzzled, but did as he said, watching as he found a robe and sandals for himself. Taking her hand, he led her through the darkened house and out the back to the dock. The night air was cooler by far than the usual muggy sweatbox of daylight hours. Tossing his robe on the deck, he dove into the lake, swimming across to the waterfall and back while she watched. She loved seeing him in motion, and the moonlight lent him a romantic air. Close to shore, he stood easily in the shallows, the water lapping his chest.

"Come on in, cyar'ika," he grinned at her. "The water's warm."

Shrugging off her own robe, she slid into the water, surprised that it really was rather warm. It was the first time she had swum in the lake, and she reveled in the feeling of buoyancy, the pressure of her belly gone. She swam rather awkwardly over to her Mate, who caught her and gently kept her afloat.

"Isn't that better?" he murmured in her ear.

"Lovely," she agreed. "Helen has even stopped kicking."

He towed her slowly around the shallows, occasionally stroking a hand over her mound. For the first time in weeks, she was comfortable and feeling rather aroused.

_Are you sure it's safe?_ He asked mentally when she playfully ran a hand along his thigh.

_It's fine,_ she assured him. _Everyone I've talked to agrees that as long as we're careful we can almost until birth. Just don't drown us._

_I'll keep that in mind, _his voice was teasing.

_And hold me up, _she admonished.

_Always, cyar'ika._

_----------------------------------------------------------------------_

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­"If I didn't know better," Revan commented with a laugh, "I'd say someone spiked the punch with an aphrodisiac."

Carth regarded his fiancé with quiet humor, taking in the rapidly emptying meeting hall. It did seem that everyone was leaving in pairs, obviously intent on continuing the celebrations privately. "You have said that the Jedi have a strange sense of humor," he observed.

"They were never that laid back," Revan snorted. "It was wishful thinking on my part."

They were halfway to Jennet's when Carth asked casually, "how involved were you in my nomination to the Order?"

Revan stopped and turned to face him. "I didn't know," she insisted.

He looked at her carefully, his eyes dark in the moonlight. Finally, he nodded. "Just checking."

"I wasn't surprised, though," she said as they started walking again. "I had mentioned years ago that I thought you were Force sensitive. Ladria agrees."

"Did _she_ bring my name forward?" he asked in surprise.

"No," Revan said positively. "She would have talked to you first. I expect Stefan did it all by himself. He's crafty; he may be a diplomat, but he knows a good thing when he sees it. Asking you on the spot like that increases the chance you'll accept."

"Or guarantees I'll decline," Carth said dryly.

"It was a risk he was willing to take," Revan shrugged. "I'm proud that you did, though."

"Well," Carth said thoughtfully, "there's only so long I'll be useful as a soldier. This is as good as retirement as I can think of. At least I won't be sitting at home, worried sick about you while you're off on a mission I can't be a part of."

"You really think that's what our life will be?" she asked in astonishment.

"Sort of," he said softly. "I'll have to retire from the Fleet eventually. But Jedi don't retire, do they?"

"No," she admitted.

"This is a way I can still serve, and be closer to you, and Dustil," Carth said quietly, "without neglecting my sworn duty to the Republic. But," he grinned, "I expect you'll be a tough taskmaster. I'm not sure I'm looking forward to training."

"You have no idea," Revan grinned back. "I better marry you _before_ we start training."

"How about next week?" Carth asked.

"I'd love that," she answered, and kissed him.

His arms wound around her waist and pulled her close as he savored the flavor of her lips. She burrowed against his chest, seeking his warmth and the beat of his heart, and he felt every cell tingle.

"Come on, Beautiful," he said gruffly when they broke apart. "Let's get to bed."


	21. Tying Loose Ends

Author's note: I apologize deeply for the delay in this posting. I've run up against a ton of family business, unexpected extended hours at work, a teacher's strike at my kid's schools, and most difficult, writer's block. I'm past that now, and expect I'll be able to post at least once a week again. I hope I haven't disappointed too many of my loyal readers, or caused anyone to think I won't finish this story. I WILL, I promise!

One of the many crisises I faced recently was having to put my beloved old dog to sleep. She was very loyal and a huge part of the family, but most devestating to me, she was my special girl. It's taken some time to move on from that. It was time, and she had lived a very long life for a German Shepard, and I'm grateful for the time we've had. She was a good girl, and will be missed.

Thank you all for your patience, and please continue to read and review. I appreciate any and all feedback.

Always, LJ

* * *

The next day Revan began her report. She had submitted it to the Chancellor and Supreme Commander of the Republic forces already, and had also given a copy to the makeshift Council well before addressing the Order as a whole. I had read over the report as well and added my own. Everyone understood the basic content, but I could tell Annie had held something back, and I wanted to know what that was. Canderous, Jarxel, Will Cantor and Mission were present; the first three in their positions of ally and Carth's aide, Mission because Dustil and Revan had insisted on it.

Revan made her basic presentation as succinct as possible, skimming through the reports of manpower, bases, armament and other resources, but it still took half the day to cover four year's worth of intelligence. I added my observations and data I had collected during my exile and the last six months, although much of that had already been covered before I had left to find Annie, as well as been incorporated in her original report, now lost, but as painsakingly reassembled as possible. Revan has amazing retention and recall when she puts her mind to it.

We took a break from the briefing, had lunch, and reconvened two hours later. When everyone was quiet, Revan addressed the Order and guests.

"We have a basic, if dated, idea of the enemy's strength and weaknesses, corroborated with Master Ladria's recent intelligence. What she did not see or confirm is this: The Sith, unknown to us at the time we destroyed the Star Forge, had already secreted some of that technology away. They have made inroads on reverse engineering the ability to harness the energy of living beings to power a new weapon. This weapon is designed to neutralize any Force sensitive on a planet it is aimed at, and has the potential for destruction on the same scale, if not much greater, as Shadow Generators."

There was dead silence as she surveyed the room. Every eye was upon her. I found myself holding my breath, but not as surprised as I might have been. We knew five years ago the Sith were not defeated, in my exile I had certainly known; anyone living in the Unknown Regions had felt the continuing presence of the Sith. Last year's mission had simply confirmed this. The Star Forge had been the most advanced and terrible technology we had ever encountered. It would only make sense that the enemy would take steps to duplicate it if they could. I was nodding unconsciously at Annie, and she caught my eye with a swift tight grimace.

"You are certain of this?" Stefan asked soberly. He clearly believed her, but needed confirmation.

Revan nodded. "I commanded a major base of operations under cover as a Sith Lord during my last mission. The research facility did not fall under my jurisdiction, but I did have regular reports of progress, which I fed to the resistance movement in the area. They managed to slow progress down considerably with hit-and-run raids on supply shipments, attacks against Sith personnel being transported to the site, and occasionally, someone managed to sabotage equipment; the resistance had moles everywhere. But they never managed a direct hit on the base. It was too well guarded, and security became much too tight to invade with as few actual fighters and ships they had.

"Like the Star Forge," she continued, "it feeds off life force. From what I can extrapolate from the data I received at the time, it does not have to be a Force sensitive that powers the generators. However, the more connection to the Force one possesses, the greater energy this technology can produce. It is my opinion, based on the reports I read at the time, that the Sith used the rip in the Force not only to destroy Jedi, but to capture as many as they could, to use for power."

She let this sink in. No one spoke, but I could almost hear the minds around me churning over her words.

"If this is true," Ju'hani said slowly, "then there could be dozens of Jedi imprisoned on that base."

"Yes," Revan said simply.

"What I remember of the Star Forge," Jolee added, his face a mask of horror, "they could survive for years before being used up entirely."

Revan nodded grimly. "I wish I could say you were wrong. But I used this power once, and your conclusion is correct. The Sith have not been able to reproduce the technology, of course. But the data suggests their research, given time, will come close. Still, as of a year ago, the weapon was not yet operational, and the estimates were inconclusive as to when it would be. The technology is far beyond any scientist's or engineer's knowledge; even Malak and I, who had used it, didn't understand _how_, exactly, it worked."

I stood, trying to gather my thoughts, and looked at Annie. "If the Sith did capture Jedi to power this…machine…is there a chance any of them are sill alive?"

"There is a small chance of that, yes, I think so," Revan said carefully. "But I think the bigger picture is that this base needs to be destroyed utterly. The Sith didn't have enough to work with to establish more than one development center. That is an advantage to us. If we can either infiltrate and sabotage the base from within, or raid it from without and destroy every shred of their research, we can stop them from creating this terrible weapon."

Canderous spoke for the first time. "I vote both," he growled.

While his expression was as impassive as always, I could see a faint tightness around his mouth, and Jennet had a look in her eyes, quickly masked, that told me her Mate was extremely upset. Not that he would admit fear, but I suspected that was what was behind his brusque tone. I glanced around at Mission, Carth, Jolee and Ju'hani and saw a similar blankness of expression that frightened me more than outright panic. These people had seen the Star Forge and its awful destruction; I had not. What I had read in the reports of their mission was enough to scare me. I understood Annie's almost casual dismissal of any Jedi left alive; it was unlikely they could be rescued. The best we could hope for would to release them from the limbo of being a source of power, and allow them to merge with the Force. I shuddered involuntarily at the thought of my brethren being suspended, held between worlds, their life force being sucked away to be used against all they believed in, without the hope of joining their souls to the Force.

But I had another question, and I spoke before Revan or Stefan could reply to Canderous' comment.

"Why didn't you speak up sooner?" I demanded of Revan. It seemed irresponsible to me that she had been back for two weeks and had not stressed the importance of this discovery.

She wasn't surprised or angry at the question. Rather, her face was troubled but calm. "The last report I got of this was well over a year ago," she said quietly. "The Sith had been working for almost nine years and were no closer to realizing the full potential of their research or experiments. I'm certain they have made progress, but are nowhere near bringing the project to completion. We have time."

"Are you sure of that?" Carth asked, his tone reasonable, his eyes stark.

She nodded. "Unless they had some breakthrough we're unaware of, yes. The resistance has some brilliant scientists among them. While they grasped the magnitude of the threat if the Sith ever managed to duplicate the technology, they were as baffled as the Sith as to how to make it work. They are of the opinion that it could take years before the Sith can unlock the secret of the Star Forge. Even with their dedication and resources."

"Wait," Canderous growled, "how trustworthy _are_ these scientists you speak of?"

Revan looked at him gravely. "I trusted them with my life."

He stared at her for a long minute, then nodded. "All right. But for this to work, their research has to be destroyed as well."

There was a rumble of agreement in the hall.

"I agree," Annie said quietly. "Once the mission is over."

Canderous stood, his eyes the color of steel. "Me and my warriors are at your disposal," his voice was quiet but absolute. "_If_ it is guaranteed that any scrap of information, every bit of data, is destroyed. On both sides." He stared hard at Revan, and then Carth. "I want no political idiot demanding we preserve it for study," he added pointedly. "_Admiral_."

To my surprise, Carth smiled at his hostility. "The Republic has no scientific data, only Revan's report of its existence. I assume you don't mean _I_ would encourage further research. It only remains how willing Revan's rebel friends are to comply."

"They will," Annie said with finality. "They regard this technology as evil, and have only studied it to try and keep ahead of the Sith. And," she said, with a cold smile, "If they object, I'll see to it they change their minds."

The Mandalore and Jedi Master regarded each other in perfect understanding.

The rest of the day flew by as battle plans were proposed, discussed, discarded, and argued over. Unsurprisingly, Revan took the lead in strategy, with Canderous and Carth adding their opinions. Everyone else took turns punching holes in their ideas, trying to come up with backup plans. It was exhausting, and by the time we dragged ourselves to our apartment, Atton and I were tired enough to simply eat a hasty meal and fall into bed, too drained to do more than kick our boots off before slipping into sleep.

It took two more days to flesh out a workable plan. Once the details were confirmed, Stefan stood, rapping his ever-present gavel.

"We're agreed, then," he said gravely. "Revan, Atton, and Mission will leave in two month's time, followed by Ladria and Canderous a week after that. In the mean time, Carth will notify the Republic of our mission. Any questions?"

No one had any.

Stefan looked around the room at the tense faces, and nodded. "All right. We have unfinished business which I'm certain everyone would like to resolve. I move we continue this meeting tomorrow, and get some rest."

Revan stood. "With due respect, Chairman, I suggest we tie up our loose ends tonight. If it pleases the council, we could break for dinner and reconvene after. I think we would sleep better if we have everything settled."

"I second that," Jerrel chimed in.

"I can do one better," Jennet hopped up and smiled at Revan. "We can eat _and_ talk. One comm to Lorna and we'll have a feast in no time."

This brought chuckles from most of the room, and Jennet grinned happily as she slipped away to comm her friend. Sooner than I would have believed, we were digging into the best meal I'd eaten in weeks, chatting companionably between bites. Stefan gave us all a quarter hour to take the edge off and rapped for attention.

"First order of business," he announced with a smile. "William Cantor, you have submitted to our testing and have performed beyond our expectations. Have you thought about our invitation to join our ranks?"

All of the Masters had participated in testing Will after the meeting three days ago and had been impressed with the results. He was strong and well trained in most forms of combat, and a very quick learner; his cool reasoning skills were impressive. Coupled with an almost eerie intuition, I was astonished he hadn't been found as a child. But then, if he had, he would have been hunted like the rest of the Jedi. The Force works in mysterious ways.

"I have," Will stood at ease in front of the Order, his hands lightly clasped behind his back. "I stand with my commander."

Carth stood. "Will, I don't want you to become Jedi for me," he said quietly.

"I'm not," Will assured him. "It never occurred to me I was Jedi material before. But I want this. I want to be where I'm most needed, where I can make a difference. You taught me that. And your son." He smiled at Dustil, who grinned back.

"Onasi charm, never underestimate it," Annie murmured, smiling. I saw Carth's ears turn a shade pink as he sat.

"Welcome to the Order, William Cantor," Stefan said formally. "Master Ladria has requested to complete your training. We expect you'll be Knighted exceptionally quickly under her tutelage."

I ignored Atton's surprised look as I smiled at Will. Having just seen my original students Knighted, I had thought I was in no hurry to train another. But I had requested Will as my Padawan before the Council had even deliberated who would best suit, surprising myself. On reflection, I was glad of it; Will had great potential, and this would keep him near Carth, which I thought under the present circumstances was necessary.

Will bowed to me, a pleased look on his face. "I am honored, Master Ladria," he said, as formal as Stefan.

There were cheers and applause as Will took his place at the tables. Once he was seated, Stefan moved on to the next order of business.

"I have been acting as Chairman of the Council for seven months," Stefan said soberly. "I've held this post as a trust, to keep us together until a true leader arises from our ranks. The Order is only as strong as its Council, and the Council only as strong as its Chairman. I have been honored to serve, but if we are to move on and rebuild, I am not the leader we need. We were all surprised at the prophecy Revan revealed to us, but not, I know, at its truth. There has been one voice more than any other that has kept us focused, forced us to rethink our laws and traditions, pointed out the flaws in our way of life and priorities. That showed us we can reemerge, stronger than ever, if we put aside differences and work together. One who has a gift of leadership, and of bringing together opposing forces for the common good. That understands that tradition for its own sake cannot be our sole guiding star, and to survive we must be willing to change." His blue eyes sought mine, and I felt every soul in the room looking with him. "Once again, I nominate Master Ladria Windbreak as Chairman, and hope she finds us worthy to lead."

I stood slowly. "It was not _you_ I found unworthy," I said quietly. "Any of you."

"Perhaps not," Stefan allowed. "Perhaps you needed to be certain we would not fall back on our bickering ways. Or perhaps," he said gently, "you simply needed to understand how much _we_ need _you_. How worthy you are."

I smiled sadly. "I'm not sure we'll ever agree on that," I said, shrugging.

Annie, sensing an opening, stood, but astonishingly, Quatz beat her to her intent. "I second the nomination," he said in a strong voice, and I almost jumped in surprise.

"You don't even like me," I blurted, surprised again at my lack of control.

He shrugged, but offered no comment. I could feel Annie grinning at me.

"I'll accept," I said, gathering my calm again, "on one condition. Revan will be our General of the Council."

There was a small gasp of surprise from the assemblage, but I saw Stefan nod thoughtfully. I had the satisfaction of feeling Annie sit down suddenly. I smiled to myself and pressed the advantage.

"She is a much more experienced and effective strategist than me when it comes to battle," I pointed out. "And we have many more to come. As Chairman, I would have ultimate authority over the General's actions. But her will would be law when it comes to war."

It was abundantly clear to everyone that we were waging a war that would not end for generations. By suggesting this split now, I was virtually ensuring that the leadership of the Council would be shared almost equally by the Chairman and the General indefinitely, possibly for centuries, with each keeping the other in check. I saw the signs of furious thought among the older members, then heads nodding. A great deal of silent communication was going on that I made no effort to listen to, patiently waiting for their answer. A silent signal was given, and Stefan smiled.

"Agreed," he said simply, as if the condition I had set was merely a minor point of interest, rather than the radical change in leadership structure it was. But I saw the admiration in his eyes, and the approval of the Order, and the tension I had been almost unaware of in my shoulders eased. "All in favor of Master Ladria?"

The 'ayes' could have shattered durasteel, and the silence to the question of opposition was deafening.

"Chairman, the Council is yours," Stefan said, and with a startling whimsy, tossed me the gavel. I caught it neatly one-handed as the cheers started.

Annie caught my eye with a sardonic lift of the eyebrow and I smiled sweetly back. She shrugged, and I heard her voice in my mind for the first time since she came back.

_Good job, Dree, _she said, amused. _You're sneakier than even I am._

_I learned from the best, _I answered serenely.

Stefan graciously stood aside as I approached the Chairman's podium, embracing me with a formal kiss to each cheek as he relinquished his place. There was a shifting as he took a seat and the tables rearranged themselves in order of precedence.

I had no speech ready, and no one seemed to expect one, so I simply called everyone to order and began to build my Council. Traditionally, the Council consisted of twelve members; we had been operating on seven. Considering our numbers, I saw no real reason to increase this by much. Stefan would stay, and with the addition of Revan as General, the Council would stand at nine members. To my surprise, Master Rene asked to be released from her duties.

"If this is your wish, I shall not oppose it," I said, puzzled. "May I ask why?"

"Like Stefan, I have served only because someone must," she said quietly. "I have been honored to have done so, but I think there is one that would be far more suited than me. I agree that the Council should not increase in size until the Order has grown considerably. Therefore, I nominate Visas Marr to the Council in my place."

There was a collective gasp; Visas was a Knight, and a recent one at that; to be nominated to council at that rank was nearly unheard of. I, however, was delighted, but carefully showed only moderate enthusiasm.

"Visas Marr is a wise counselor," Rene continued at my nod of encouragement. "As an accomplished Seer, she can give a unique perspective to the Council. She has proven herself as intelligent, thoughtful, and diplomatic. She is young, but wise beyond her years and willing to work hard for the good of the Order. I believe she is an ideal candidate."

There were murmurs and nods from many, most noticeably from my former Padawan. Visas herself looked vaguely surprised. Some were shaking their heads and one or two looked disapproving.

"Let's put it to a vote," I said finally. "Visas, do you accept your nomination?"

She stood gracefully, regaining her serenity. "I do," she said simply, and I saw Jarxel out of the corner of my eye looking at her with a mixture of pride and apprehension. He sat back, deliberately relaxing himself and blanking his face. Canderous cast a sideways look at his XO, and Jennet touched his arm. He smiled briefly at her.

"All in favor?"

Loud "ayes" rang around the room.

"Against?"

A scattering of "nays".

"Welcome to the Council," I said, and the tables reshuffled again.

I nominated Mical as official Council scribe, not a voting Council position, but vital, and he was voted in enthusiastically. His handsome face was flushed with pleasure as he accepted his post.

"Now," I smiled as everyone settled from the latest round of applause, "the last order of business. I'm pleased to announce that there will be a triple wedding in four day's time at the home of the Mandalore. Revan and Carth, myself and Atton, and Dustil and Mission invite you all to the celebration, commencing at sundown, with a reception to follow. Jolee Bindo will conduct the ceremony. The Order will meet again just before Revan, Mission and Atton leave in two month's time. Meanwhile, I expect everyone to play their parts in preparation of the mission. You all know how to contact me. Keep me posted. Dismissed."

I banged the gavel, and a whoop of delight roared around the room. Atton swiftly made his way to my side, kissing me soundly before we were engulfed by the rest of our friends, all offering congratulations. Carth, Revan, Dustil and Mission were hugged and back slapped in turn, and Jolee was being teased by Stefan about being the first Jedi in the history of the Order to officially perform a civil marriage ceremony for Order members.

"Better you than me. I'm terrible with public speaking," Stefan deadpanned.

"Revan just doesn't want to be married by someone prettier than her," Jolee retorted.

The announcement wasn't that much of a surprise, actually, but the Order meetings had been so intense that the excuse for a celebration was welcome. And the exact date hadn't been decided on until yesterday, when Revan had asked Jolee if he would officiate. Atton had approached Jennet about using the estate grounds, and Mission had charmed Lorna and Megari into taking charge of a wedding feast. Dustil, Carth and I were told firmly to stay out of it.

"Do you think it would bother them to know how predictable they are?" I asked Carth mischievously while our fiancés were out of earshot. "I told you we wouldn't have to do a thing."

"We'll keep it our secret," Carth answered with a wink. "A good soldier never gives up a weapon willingly."

"Good point," I agreed, and Dustil, who had caught the exchange as he was passing by, laughed.

"They're all managing busybodies," he said fondly, watching Mission as she talked animatedly to Annie and Atton. "We're in good hands, I think."

"Gods help us," Carth said with feeling, but his eyes were soft as Revan laughed at something Atton said.

"Has she mentioned a honeymoon?" I asked curiously. Atton had not, but that didn't mean anything; he liked to surprise me. Considering he was one of the very few people whom I didn't mind being surprised by, this worked out very well.

"No," Carth answered, shrugging. "I'm not entirely certain we'll have time."

"Dad," Dustil said sternly, "_make_ time. You've been waiting _years_ to marry Annie, you deserve a few days!"

Carth stared at his son with some surprise. "When did you get so authoritive?"

"I learned it from you. You have the _worst_ time taking your own advice of anyone I know. You're always telling people not to neglect their families, make sure they're a priority, don't get so caught up in the crisis of the moment that you forget to take time for them. But how often do _you_ do that, hm?" Dustil looked suddenly fierce, his arms crossed over his chest.

Carth suddenly looked guilty. "I've missed one too many birthday parties, haven't I?"

Dustil softened. "That's not it, Dad," he said, smiling sadly. "You're a great father, and have always been there these last few years. And I know that you used your job to keep from missing Annie. But she's here now. I expect to see some changes, okay?"

"Considering I'm just taken on another full-time job on top of my Republic duties, I can't guarantee it'll be that different, son," Carth said quietly. "But since it's Rev's world too, it won't get in the way of us, I promise. Now quit worrying about me; you're getting married. Take your own advice, got it?"

"Yes, sir," Dustil saluted smartly. "Aunt Dree could use that advice, too," he said, smiling at me.

"Hey," I protested, "leave me out of it. _I_ don't have an overdeveloped sense of responsibility."

The laugh that statement inspired from Carth attracted numerous stares and I hissed at him to hush.

"Well," Dustil said cheerfully, "It's your delusion. Far be it for me to shatter it."

The next three days flew by, and suddenly I was the subject of more attention than I was comfortable with. As Annie and Mission were receiving equal amounts of fussing over their persons I set my face in a smile and endured. These were my friends, and they wanted to help, to show us they cared. Who was I to protest?

Annie, Atton and Mission were taking care of the ceremony and reception, of course, but there were still details that apparently required my attention. Mira, Jennet, Ju'hani, Visas, and, to my surprise, Master Celia, insisted on taking me, Revan, and Mission up to Onderon to choose outfits to be married in. I had thought to wear my dress robes, but this idea was shot down by Mira and Celia when they questioned me about wedding attire.

"Oh for Force sake, Ladria, you're getting _married_!" Mira snapped at me, scowling. "If ever you should have a great dress…" she let the sentiment hang, and I smiled gently.

"All right, if this is so important to you," I said, but Celia, who had taken a great interest in me, my wedding, Revan, and by extension, Mission, for mysterious reasons she chose not to share, backed Mira up.

"Of course you should have a new dress, my dear," she said firmly. "We'll go tomorrow. I'll see if Master Revan and Mission have need of it as well."

I suspected Mission had had her own wedding attire picked out years ago, and more than likely had brought them with her. Annie, I knew for certain, had little with her than the borrowed robes I had given her and the breeches and tunic she wore when not in robes. And my green dress, which I suggested to Mira in a last ditch hopeless effort to avoid dress shopping.

"Not a chance," she said, grinning. "It was worn to Jennet's wedding; bad luck."

"I wouldn't have pegged you as superstitious," I said mildly.

"I make my own luck, that's true," Mira said comfortably. "But why tempt the Gods?"

Knowing there was no point in arguing further, I casually mentioned that Annie likely had more need than me for proper clothing and carefully hiding my amusement, sicced Mira and Celia on my best friend. This wasn't difficult, as Celia had already intended to do so. The result was an entire day at the same dressmaker Jennet had used, trying on dresses all colors of the rainbow.

"No pink," I said firmly when Mira held up a lovely pale rose gown the exact shade of the inside of a shell. "I'm thirty-four, not six. And you might have noticed I have red hair." I nodded to her own flaming locks. Mine was a considerably darker shade, it was true. But I refused to look like a sweet confection.

"It would look lovely with your skin," Jennet said unexpectedly. "And pink is the new black for redheads, didn't you know?"

"Fashion isn't my forte," I admitted. "I'm surprised you pay attention to it," I added, not unkindly. Jennet never struck me as someone who cared much what she wore; her usual dress was casual boots, breeches and tunic, often rumpled as she seldom changed during her busy days…at least they were busy when she wasn't sporting an eight month pregnancy. Her enforced rest was wearying on her, I knew, and the trip to Onderon was a special treat. I was surprised Canderous hadn't protested, and mentioned this.

"Oh, he did," she said cheerfully. "But I got around him by pointing out that Dax and Kex would be with me the whole time, and speed things up for everyone. The dress shop isn't likely to get a lot of business with those two at the door."

It was true. Two glowering Mandalorians standing guard discouraged any patrons from entering. I made a mental note to tip the dressmaker generously for her time.

"As for fashion, you're right, I don't care much. Mira told me," she added mischievously. "She's having fun, though, so who am I to interfere?"

I sighed, and submitted gracefully to being poked and pinned. I sneaked a look at Annie, who was faring better than me, having always been more attuned to feminine vanity than myself. She was animatedly talking to Mission, who as I had guessed, had no need to find wedding garments, having been fitted for her own dress months before and had impulsively packed them when she dashed off to the Eternity. Visas was quietly sorting through racks of dresses, acquiring a sizable collection, which were hanging on a portable rack thoughtfully provided by the shop's owner.

Mira approached, a light not unlike battle in her eye, several colorful gowns over her arm. I rejected the green one out of hand, thinking of the beautiful dress I had worn on the last night I had shared with Bao Dur. It had been the same color, and I wanted no nostalgic pangs from anyone when I married Atton, if everyone insisted on something new. He had never seen that dress, which I had carefully packed away, but Bao Dur would remember. He was standing as best man for both of us.

I discarded a gorgeous midnight blue that looked glorious with my skin and hair, but was so embarrassingly skimpy I doubted I could get through the ceremony without blushing. Mira agreed on that principle, but set it aside with a wicked grin, saying something about me needing a knockout dress for the honeymoon. I have mentioned that I rarely get embarrassed about showing skin, and this is true. But I do have a sense of propriety, and this was a wedding. I had definite ideas for the blue dress during my honeymoon, however, and smiled at Mira's comment.

Visas towed over her rack and Annie, and the five women got down to business. Dozens of fabrics, colors, and styles were held up for inspection as the two of us stood in front of the triple mirror and we narrowed it down to four garments each. Annie found hers on the second try out of the changing room – a gorgeous silk woven in such a way that it gleamed soft gold or green, depending on how the light hit the fabric. It was fitted, corset-like, to the waist, with a full skirt that ended in a gently gathered short train. The green and gold in her hazel eyes stood out, and the color brought out the gold highlights in her brown-blonde hair. She was breathtaking, her skin flushed a becoming pearly pink, the fluttery open sleeves suggesting wings while leaving her arms bare. I sighed in pleasure.

"You look beautiful, Annie," I said sincerely.

"It will do," she said mildly, but her eyes were lively with excitement. I laughed. "Now you," she said firmly, and the fussing began again.

Neither of the last two I had chosen seemed exactly right, so all seven of us went back to the racks, each taking a section of the shop to search. I was beginning to feel we were on a hunting expedition rather than shopping for a dress.

"I found it!" crowed Mira happily, and swooped over to me, unceremoniously shoving me into the dressing room before I could protest. A cloud of material was tossed over the top of the door with a stern demand to try it on. I battled the folds of cloth and emerged rather pink and cross from the effort. Then I caught my reflection and froze.

It was beautiful, and utterly perfect. Tight to the waist and sleeveless, it was an unusual shade, too blue to be gray, too silver to be blue, slightly shimmering in a heavy silk that draped elegantly. The neckline was slightly stiffened, wrapping around like a close-fitting shawl, standing a few centimeters above my bared shoulders to dip into a low V at my cleavage. Three deep pleats were the only details of the bodice, which was tight and had an ingenious underpinning that gave me the illusion of more curves than I possessed. The skirt was simple, bias-cut and full enough to allow me to move easily, with the merest hint of a train. Currently, it was a good twelve centimeters too long, but the dressmaker hastened to assure me that she could have it altered in no time.

"It will take only an hour or so," she promised. "I can have it ready while you wait."

"Please do," I breathed, oblivious to the excited chatter of my friends. I couldn't wait to see Atton's face when he saw me.


	22. Welcome to the Family

I woke to the repeated buzz of the door comm, jerking out of a muddled dream. I had been restless that night, missing Atton's warm bulk, but he had insisted on sleeping on board the Sphinx this last night before we were wed. I had protested it was silly, but his odd sense of fate made him resolute; he wouldn't budge. Like Mira, he was almost whimsically superstitious on some matters.

The door comm was insistent and I groped for a robe, hastily wrapping it around me as I shook my head to clear the cobwebs. To my shock, it was Kex at the door, his brown eyes dark with near panic.

"The lass is in labor," he said simply.

He was really rattled if he'd dropped formalities so completely, and I stepped aside to let him in.

"Two minutes," I promised, and ran for the 'fresher. As I threw on tunic and breeches and tied my hair back, I tried to get a sense of what was going on at the Mandalore's house. I had no Force bond with Jennet, but I did with Mical, and surely he would be there already? I found his bright trail in my mind and sped up my ablutions. He was no closer to Jennet than I was; in fact, they hadn't woke him yet. Damn.

"Go fetch Disciple," I told Kex. "And Stefan. I'll meet them there."

I was unsurprised to find Visas already in attendance when I reached Jennet's side; I was certain her Seer talent had brought her here, and in any case had already seen Jarxel in the hall, pacing, looking worried, the honor guard with him. He'd been the father of six once and would know the irregularity of going into labor at not quite eight months. I sped up, to find Canderous pacing with his wife, masking his worry from all but the sharpest observer. I honestly don't know why he bothers to hide it with so many Jedi around.

"Kex sent for you," Jennet said by way of greeting, looking resigned. "Sorry to have dragged you out of bed at such an ungodly hour. On your wedding day, too!" she looked distressed at the thought.

"Don't be silly," I said firmly. "He was just worried about you. Are you sure you're in labor?" I glanced at Visas, who was busying herself preparing supplies. She nodded serenely at me and I relaxed. She had said all would be well, and I believed her.

"My water broke a half hour ago," Jennet said, and a faint frown appeared between her eyes. "It's too soon, but Helen's fine, I'm sure of it." She looked at me, seeking confirmation.

"I'm certain she is," I soothed. "Let's take a look, all right?"

I'd tuned in to mother and child as soon as I hit the complex and found nothing out of the ordinary, except it being approximately a month early. There were no heavy contractions yet, merely the cramping of early labor, and that could go on for hours. Visas murmured that Jennet was dilated to about three centimeters and holding. I nodded.

"Blood pressure's good, the baby's heartbeat is normal, everything is looking just fine," I said cheerfully, and saw Canderous relax a fraction. Jennet nodded, smiling with some relief.

"I suggest you eat, if you can, and walk as much as possible," Visas said, taking charge. "This will likely take a while and you need your strength."

Disciple burst in then, medical bag in hand, looking like he'd dressed in the dark. He stopped short at the sight of us, straightened his back, and visibly collected himself.

"Good morning," he said brightly. "How are you feeling, my dear?"

Revan was right behind, with Mission, Mira, Lorna, and Megari filing in after, all trying not to look as concerned as they were. I wondered where Atton, Bao Dur and Stefan were. Jennet looked around the room at the faces of her friends and smiled.

"Besieged," she said succinctly.

Guilty looks were exchanged and I stepped forward to make some order out of what was rapidly descending into chaos.

"Jennet, do you wish to go to the clinic?" I asked, feeling certain what the answer would be. She has a horror of hospitals.

"Please, no," she said promptly, her face momentarily stricken. "But…do you think I should?" She took a deep breath and looked at me, Mical and Visas pleadingly. "I know it's awfully early to have the baby. Would it be…safer if I went?"

"Not at bit," Mical said cheerfully. "I've taken the liberty of sending your honor guard, along with Stefan, to collect whatever we might need from the clinic."

"Early labor can take hours, sometimes days," Visas said in her calm voice. "We'll have plenty of time."

"That's settled, then," I said briskly. "Megari, Lorna, would you be so kind as to make some breakfast?"

They disappeared into the depths of the house, grateful to have something to do.

Visas meanwhile was encouraging Jennet to find a garment that she didn't mind sacrificing, something loose and comfortable. She was currently dressed in a rather expensive looking silk nightdress I suspected she hadn't bought for herself, with an enormously huge shabby robe tossed haphazardly over it. Jennet nodded and rummaged in the wardrobe, coming up with an old tunic that must belong to Canderous. She slipped into the 'fresher, Canderous trying to follow, but she shut the door in his face.

"I'm fine," she said crossly before the door closed. "I'm having a baby, not engaging in combat."

Canderous rather looked like he didn't believe there was a difference, but said nothing, merely glowering briefly at the 'fresher door before striding over to a chair and sitting heavily. He was fully dressed, looking his usual scruffy self, complete with scowl. He hadn't spoken one word. I noticed on closer inspection he was barefoot. Taking pity but careful not to show it, I nodded at Revan, who went over to her former shipmate and started talking to him in low tones.

"Is there anything we can do?" Mira asked me quietly, Mission right beside her, nodding.

"Just be on hand," I answered, giving them a reassuring smile. "It will be some time before we'll need active help, if at all. We'll have to postpone the wedding, of course, Jennet will be devastated if she misses it. Could you two handle that, with Revan? I'll need people to pass along progress reports as well, if we don't want half the camp descending on us."

"You got it," they chorused in unison. I swiftly gave instructions and the two of them headed out the door. Annie left Canderous' side and patted my arm as she followed, shrewdly guessing what I had asked. I heard her mental assurance that everything would be handled as she left.

The day passed slowly, with as minimal fuss as we could manage. Breakfast arrived, and everyone ate. Canderous picked at his food, clearly lacking his usual large appetite, but I saw with approval that Jennet ate everything put in front of her, and looked around for more. Most women should eat sparingly before the onset of heavy labor, but I knew Jennet needed every bit of energy she could get. Helen was large, and while I was certain everything would go well, the healing necessary afterwards might be considerable.

Shortly afterwards, Mission poked her head into the room and gestured to me. I excused myself and followed the Twi'lek woman out to the receiving hall, where it appeared half the clinic's equipment had been brought by the honor guard. Stefan stood among the piles of cases, looking at me expectantly. I stifled a giggle at the eagerness of the honor guard to be of use; they stood stoically around the supplies, but the air of impatience to do _something_, anything, was palpable. Dax shot me a look so full of concern my amusement fled. Stefan's face was bland as ever, but I caught the tightness around his eyes that betrayed his fear.

"Excellent, gentlemen," I said warmly. "Just leave these here for now and Disciple will decide how to set up. Jennet's doing splendidly." I added, and watched seven burly men struggle not to droop in relief. I swear I saw a shine of tears in Kex's eyes. Stefan relaxed.

"I'll be nearby," he told me quietly. "I expect I won't be terribly welcome just now."

I knew he didn't mean Jennet, and nodded in sympathy. "She'll be fine," I assured him, and went back to inform Mical of the arrival of the equipment.

I detoured to the common room to find Atton, Bao Dur, Carth, Revan, Dustil, Will, Jolee, Ju'hani, Mission and Mira gathered. Atton came over and kissed me briefly.

"How is she?" he asked anxiously.

"Doing fine," I answered, and felt the ripple of relief around the room. I smiled, knowing it was no use to send anyone away. I noticed the absence of Lorna and Megari and asked where they were.

"In the kitchen," Mira said brightly. "We brood when worried; they cook."

"A useful occupation," I observed. "Considering we have quite a houseful today."

Arriving back at the master bedroom, I found Jennet pacing again, Canderous matching her awkward stride. I took Visas and Disciple aside and told them about the medical equipment. Taking my arm, Disciple gestured to Visas and we went down to the front hall to survey the piles. I sent Revan up to sit with Jennet and Canderous while we were occupied.

"We can set up the incubator in the nursery, along with the necessary emergency equipment for a premature infant," Disciple said with authority. "It's just a precaution, of course. My last examination of Helen showed an unusually rapid development; I'm expecting she'll physically be as strong as a full term baby. The birthing cot can be set up in the master bedroom, and that cart with it to hold my instruments. There's plenty of kolto, just in case, that's good." He pointed to the various boxes and the honor guard sprang into action, the pile rapidly dwindling to nothing.

It took almost no time to transport everything to their various locations, and soon there was nothing to do but wait. It was barely 05:00 and I wondered what time it had been when Kex buzzed my door.

Jennet's pains started about four hours later, the first one so sudden she doubled up and almost fell if Canderous hadn't caught her. She squealed in protest when he touched her, and he let go as soon as she was steady on her feet. The contraction passed and she smiled wanly at her Mate.

"Sorry," she said simply.

"Don't be," he said gruffly, and I realized it was the first thing I'd heard him speak all day.

This turn of events continued for some time as Jennet resumed her pacing. Disciple or Visas interrupted her at intervals to check her vitals and progression. Suddenly, things were moving very fast, and at Mical's look, Canderous scooped his wife up and got her on the birthing cot, directing her hands to the handles on either side. Jennet rejected the right handle, grabbing her husband's hand in a death grip. I adjusted the gurney so she could more or less sit up, and Canderous slipped an arm under his wife's shoulders. There was a great deal of grunting and swearing and sooner than I would have believed, Helen Miranne Ordo shot into the world like a crossbow bolt.

There was blood, a great deal more of it and a brighter red than I would like to see, and Visas and Disciple exchanged significant looks as they quietly used their healing to stem the flow. I joined my own energy to theirs and felt Jennet mend. She was busy delivering the afterbirth and didn't notice our collective relief. Visas was cleaning Helen, checking weight, vitals and color. Mical sat back, grinning, the tension eased from his face. The thin cry of a newborn jolted Canderous out of his concentration on his wife and he looked up expectantly.

Visas smiled and handed him his daughter. "She's in perfect health. Four kilos and 54 centimeters. All fingers and toes intact."

"She's so small," Canderous said softly, and I was shocked to see tears rolling silently down his craggy face. He touched a fat cheek with one large finger. "Hello, Helen. I'm your Dad." He seemed utterly unaware of his lapse and smiled down at his wife. I looked away, feeling suspicious moisture in my own eyes.

"Hardly small," Jennet said dryly, but was smiling radiantly. "Let me see her."

Canderous carefully placed the baby in Jennet's arms and stood, unconsciously flexing his hand. I saw a quick spasm of pain cross his features as he ran the other through his hair and down his face, erasing all traces of tears. Noting this, I felt I could safely acknowledge him and crossed to take his big hand in both my own.

"Jennet has quite a grip," I murmured. "Let me see."

"It's nothing," he protested, but let me examine it anyway. I gently prodded and concluded most of the fingers had hairline fractures. I sent some healing through and saw the tiny signs of pain fade from his eyes. "Thanks," he said gruffly. With an eloquent lift of an eyebrow and a tilt of the head, he silently asked me not to tell Jennet. I grinned and gave back a minute nod.

After some time of the new family getting acquainted, Canderous retrieved his newborn daughter and escorted Disciple out of the room while Visas and I helped Jennet clean up and tucked her into bed. Lorna appeared with a tray of food, which Jennet devoured in record time, then drifted off into healing sleep. Just before her eyes closed, I heard a roar outside, startling her momentarily awake.

"Canderous told the troops," she said sleepily, a satisfied smile drifting across her face.

"So it seems," I agreed, and left her to her rest.

The exaltation of the Mandalorian population had to be seen to be believed. Unbeknownst to the primary participants of the day's work, a goodly number of the near 10,000 refugees had camped out on the Mandalore's grounds, waiting for news. I greeted the rest of my friends as I came down the main staircase, and peered out into the yard through the large windows in the reception hall. Canderous, surrounded by his honor guard and the Elders, was presenting Helen to his people, and the news was spreading rapidly. I expected the streets of the new city would be filled with rowdy celebration in short order.

I directed the removal of medical equipment from the nursery, deciding that the rest of it could wait until Jennet was awake. Revan volunteered to sit with Visas to watch over the new mother. Canderous eventually brought Helen in to be briefly admired by one and all before being taken by Lorna up to her bassinet. Shortly after, Revan and Visas joined us, having been shooed out of Jennet's room by the Mandalore. He'd even been polite about it, Annie reported.

"There's no prouder daddy in the universe right now," she said to me, a huge grin on her face. "It's rather cute."

"We should leave," I suggested quietly, smiling at the image of Canderous becoming a puddle of goo. I doubted seriously it was as dramatic as all that, but the thought amused me. "Give them some privacy."

"Like they'll get that much in the next week," Mira scoffed. "Not with the entire Mandoa population celebrating in the streets."

"No, he said he'd appreciate it if we stayed," Visas said in her soft voice. "Just in case."

We spent the day revamping wedding plans, deciding to postpone it for another few days to give Jennet time to recover and the initial excitement of the Mandoa to settle down. We all visited Jennet and Canderous in small groups off and on, and Disciple reported that Jennet was healing amazingly quickly.

"Her healing is coming back rapidly," he said in satisfaction. "I thought it would. Helen isn't as large as the average Mandalorian newborn – they're usually about five kilos. But she's definitely big for Jennet. I'm hoping any more children will develop and deliver as rapidly as Helen did."

"They will," Visas said serenely.

There was a steady stream of visitors, most bringing gifts for the newborn. These were largely ceremonial and often weapons. I spotted at least a dozen swords of various makes and sizes, pistols, blasters, and even a beautifully made antique bow, complete with quiver full of arrows, suitable for a child of about five. I set Mira, Atton, Mission and Visas to accepting the offerings and found a blank datapad to record the rapidly growing collection. Disciple volunteered to catalog everything and the honor guard took charge of display. Apparently, the receiving hall would be open to the public for a few days for anyone who wished to pay their respects and view the gifts. The honor guard were stationed at the entrances to the family's quarters, Jarxel in charge of the crowd control. Seeing I wasn't needed, I wandered back to the common area.

It was with something of a shock I realized that it was only a couple of hours past noon. I was tired enough to want to simply drop and sleep where I stood, but drew on my training and joined in the impromptu party currently taking place in the Mandalore's family room. Atton, sensing my exhaustion, sat me beside him on one of the couches and brought food, along with a large mug of coffee, which I sipped gratefully. I looked around at my friends and felt a warm glow, thinking of the new parents above with their precious gift of life. Helen, I thought, has a most enthusiastic and protective extended family.

And so do I.

* * *

When Jennet woke, the sun was slanting through her window with a golden glow that suggested it was late in the afternoon. Canderous was close, she could feel him, and Helen was nearby too. She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the light and saw her husband sitting on a chair he'd drawn up to the side of her bed. She smiled and sat up, taking note of her internal workings. Everything seemed relatively normal.

"You look beautiful, Wildcat," Canderous rumbled.

She ran a hand self-consciously through her sleep tangled curls and grimaced. "You need your eyes checked," she said tartly, but smiled again to take away the sting.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood cautiously. Her legs held her; that was good. Canderous was on his feet in an instant, a steadying hand under her elbow. She looked up at him, touched and exasperated at once.

"I'm fine, ti kar'ta," Jennet said quietly. "Just tired. My healing's back, though." She glanced down and said in mock surprise, "Hey, look! I have feet!"

He laughed and let go of her arm. "That's some diet," he agreed. "You were getting fat."

She scowled at him and he laughed again, gathering her carefully in to kiss her. "She's as beautiful as you," he said softly, nodding to the cradle near his chair. "And she talks in her sleep."

"Babies don't talk, silly," Jennet poked him playfully in the gut. "Sure you're not going senile on me?"

"Well, she babbles like you, anyway," Canderous said consideringly. "And eats like you. I've fed her twice while you were sleeping."

"How long was I out?" she asked with surprise.

"About four hours. Looks like you could use more." He cocked an eyebrow at her and she shook her head.

"No. I'm tired, but if I sleep right away I'll be all muzzy. Give me a couple hours. Besides, I think Helen is going to want to eat again soon." Jennet cupped her breasts unconsciously, somewhat amazed at their size and how tender they felt. "I'll be right back."

She took some time in the 'fresher, and when she emerged she felt much more awake. Helen was stirring, making hungry noises, and Canderous handed her to his wife once Jennet was settled in the rocking chair he'd brought in from the nursery. The baby latched on at once, and he watched mother and child silently. Jennet rocked gently as Helen sucked contentedly. Both of his ladies' eyes were closed and he felt a swell of tenderness, not an emotion he was completely used to yet. Jennet opened her eyes and smiled a little sadly.

"I wish my mother was here to see her," she said wistfully.

"I wish mine was here, too," he said simply.

He moved to kneel beside the rocker, one big hand cupping the curve of his daughter's body as she snuggled against her mother. A tiny hand, perfect with pearly nails and long fingers that he felt certain would grow strong and graceful, lay against the white roundness of Jennet's breast. Impossibly long lashes swept fat pink cheeks. Her eyes, he knew, were slate colored, but held a hint of his own bright blue, he thought. He would have loved for them to be her mother's warm brown, but was glad that she would bear some resemblance to himself as well. Even in the softness of newborn features, she was otherwise a miniature of her mother. Jennet gently pulled Helen away and she squawked in protest. Canderous grinned.

"Told you she eats like you. Single-minded," he teased.

Jennet gave him a brief glare and patted Helen's back, rewarded almost at once with a surprisingly loud belch.

"Well, she _sounds_ like her father," Jennet shot a grin at him. Helen squawked some more and Jennet set her on the other breast. "There you go, sweetheart," she crooned. "Don't make me lopsided, okay?"

"How are you feeling?" Canderous asked abruptly, gazing at his wife with concern. He'd seen the blood, but didn't mention it to Jennet.

"Fine," she assured him. "I'll be back to normal before you know it."

"So Visas told me," he nodded.

"She should know," Jennet leaned back, and soon Helen was full, her tiny mouth slack against the nipple. Jennet woke her briefly for another burp and diaper change, then allowed her to drift back to sleep.

"Would you get all overprotective if we went downstairs for a while?" Jennet asked. "I'll bet everyone would like to see us if you don't mind."

"I don't mind," he answered, and was somewhat surprised that it was true. With something of a shock, he realized that it was their family down there, in every way that matters. He and Jennet had their Clan, and that was a part of his blood, his home. But the friends he'd fought with, lived with, nearly died with, had become a part of him when he wasn't looking. He wasn't always comfortable with the notion, but he was more grateful for their friendship than they knew.

Of course, he reflected, most of them being Jedi, they probably did. Damn Force sensitives anyway. No secrets at all.

Jennet caught enough of that to laugh.

"Come on, you big softie. Let's give Helen a proper introduction to her family."


	23. My Worldly Goods Endow

It was the day before my wedding, and I was alone for once. When I'd gone to find Revan, the loneliness had been intense; I'd gotten fairly used to being around people again after ten years of exile. My betrayal of Atton had been heavy on my mind as well, making the time away from him both a relief – for a time I didn't have to face him - and nearly intolerable. Hardly an hour passed that I hadn't wanted to drive the Ebon Hawk back to Dxun, even if it meant he would send me away, my apologies and explanations unheard. Only the equally strong need to find Annie kept me from turning back. That, and my honor.

Still, there had been times during the mission with my shipmates I had longed for some simple silence, away from the crowd around me. I knew this was partly a byproduct of those years wandering the Unknown Regions. Constant company still felt strange, and once in a while I had to steel myself against data overload. It wasn't just that, though. My own nature was not solitary, exactly, but I had always been one to need time to myself and was comfortable in my own skin. Reflecting on that now, I realized that all of the people I felt closest to possessed that knack, as well: Atton, Annie, Bao Dur, all of my former Padawan, in fact. Canderous, Jennet, Carth, and Will were as content with their own thoughts as they were being constantly around people. But however occasionally unappreciative of my friends' presence I was, I had missed them badly when I left.

Not that I had spent all my time in exile utterly alone. But I had never spent more than a few weeks at a stretch in the company of others. I had been too broken, too driven, too…well, too intent on punishing myself to want to inflict my presence on anyone for any length of time. I had taken to solitude almost too well and had found some measure of comfort in self reliance. I am honest enough with myself to know that I am very adaptable; given whatever set of circumstances the Force presents, I will cope, even thrive. I could stand being solitary as long as I needed to. But somewhere deep inside me, I had understood that people were not meant to walk alone. It was a rare individual that was content with their own company forever.

At this moment, however, I was agreeable to being alone. Probably, I admitted, because it wouldn't last long – sooner or later someone would be looking for me. Perversely, after so many years of having no one to talk to but my own thoughts, I both reveled in company and longed for silence.

I was reflecting now that it was no wonder Atton had managed to punch through the wall I had built around myself. Unlike me, Atton is sociable by nature. He thrives off the energy of being around people, even when he chooses to be alone among a crowd. We're both watchful souls, as well. While he camouflages his observation of social interaction with a glib tongue and extroverted behavior, I tend to be quiet and less inclined to mask my habit of taking note of what happens around me. This is both an advantage and a liability, as I see it – others are drawn to me because they know I pay attention to them, but can be wary if they have something to hide. Atton, however, with his charm and wit, attracts people – and they tend to be less guarded, believing him to be less shrewd than he is. And yet, when he wishes, he can pass through the crowd and not a single soul present would recall he'd ever been there. It was an interesting combination. I'd sensed it somehow the first time I'd seen him, caged in a jail cell, half starved and believing himself delirious from hunger.

We were so alike, yet so different. We had both lived a good deal of our lives feeling apart from the rest of humanity, wary and untrusting of the kindness of strangers. Neither of us had believed we deserved love or redemption. I had expressed it in waging an unwinable war against those who had stolen my home and family. Ironically, I had been battling the very people who had been just that. Atton had coped by disappearing into the seedy underbelly of society, playing at being a petty criminal. Thrown together from circumstance, we'd found in our mission and each other something that we'd lost - the urge to become part of a force bigger than ourselves.

I had had that with the Order, and with the Republic Fleet during the war…the sense of belonging, of doing something right for the good of all. Only to have it shatter around me with one massive explosion and an unconscious decision to make the pain stop. I knew now that what Atton had told me was true: I had cut myself off from the Force because I cared so much. I could not live with the echoes of Malachor V reverberating in my soul. But without realizing it, I had responded to the Force insisting it was necessary I survive. And so I had made my choice. Atton had made his when faced with his past, terrified I would denounce him as the villain he was convinced he still was.

It was no coincidence that I had first felt the Force again shortly after releasing Atton from his cell. Kreia had wanted me to believe she was responsible for my reawakening, but she hadn't been. It was Annie who had first sparked my awareness, but that memory had been stolen, and she alone had not been quite enough for me to risk opening myself up again. It was Atton who had broken through, completely unaware of his effect on me. I had not figured that out until much later, when I realized the depth of my feelings toward him…and my terror of acknowledging it. It was his willingness to let me go, thinking I would be happier with Bao Dur regardless of the pain it would cause himself that had given me the courage to take that leap of faith.

And tomorrow at sunset, I would be marrying the man I loved beyond time, space or reason, with the full knowledge and consent of the Order. Despite the battles looming in our future, I was happy down to the bottom of my soul. Under that, however, was a tiny spark of unease, and I knew I had some unfinished business with my fiancé before we spoke our vows.

As if summoned by this thought, the object of my devotion came into view. Spotting me on the dock behind the Mandalore's home, he came over and plopped down next to me after stripping off his boots and tossing them in the general direction of mine. Plunging his feet into the cool water, he slipped an arm around me and kissed my temple. I leaned on his strong shoulder, just breathing in his scent. He smelled faintly of hot rolls and bacon; Lorna must have fed him. Under that was the clean odor of soap, and a slightly bittersweet scent like dark chocolate that was simply Atton. I inhaled deeply and snuggled against his warmth.

"Nervous?" he asked lightly, and I shook my head.

"No. You?" I lifted my head briefly and kissed his nose.

"Nope." His long deft fingers were combing my hair, which was tied at the nape of my neck instead of its usual tidy roll. He tugged at the lacing until it pulled free and fluffed the strands around my shoulders. I shivered at the touch of his hand on the back of my neck, enjoying the contact.

"I'll bet I could change that," I said a little breathlessly.

"How?" he eyed me, suddenly wary.

I looked back, trying not to show how important this was to me. "What's your opinion on children?"

"I like kids," he said, still wary. "Sometimes with eggs on toast."

I elbowed him at the jest. "Be serious."

"I am," he deadpanned. Then his face grew serious. "Are you pregnant?"

"Of course not!" I spoke sharply, offended he would think I would allow that to happen without consulting him.

"No, no," he soothed, reading my face. "I would never think you'd do that on purpose. I'm sorry."

"Okay, then," I said, still a little miffed. "No, I'm not pregnant. I just wondered if you wanted kids. It occurred to me that we've never talked about it."

"I never thought I'd be in a position that it was a question," he said thoughtfully. "I don't know how good of a father I might be. The idea terrifies me," he said honestly, but his tone was light, a trick he used when he's unsure. "You, on the other hand, would be a wonderful mother."

"I appreciate that," I said softly. "I'm scared of the idea, too. But I want to be a mother, someday."

"I…" Atton's voice trailed off, and I shifted again to look at his face. His eyes were far away, his expression blank. "I don't know how I feel about it. At one time I thought it would be the greatest crime of humanity for me to reproduce."

"Why?" I asked, already more or less knowing the answer. But he needed to say it, so I waited patiently for him to speak.

He sat for a long time, absently stroking my hair and staring across the lake. I saw the moment he collected his thoughts.

"I've hardly been celibate," he said with slight self-depreciating twist of the mouth that passed for a smile. "I like women, and have had a lot of them. Both for personal and…professional reasons," he used the expression with a grimace, and I shuddered inwardly at the memory of all the Jedi he'd hunted, the dark seduction and violent betrayal. "But I was careful – even then I never wanted an Atton junior running around. When Canderous admitted he'd had a sterilization procedure done, I understood why – I'd done the same thing."

"You're sterile reversible?" I asked, not really surprised, mostly annoyed that I hadn't guessed.

"Yeah." He shrugged. "I did it years ago, while still in the Army. I wasn't as totally self involved or irresponsible as I let on. My own birth was an accident, you know."

"No, I didn't," I said softly, touching his cheek in sympathy. He smiled ruefully.

"Well, yeah, it was. I have no clue who my father is, and would be damned if I did it to someone else. Once I had it done, I was relieved; I wanted no part of fatherhood. I was scared enough about it I had regular checkups just to make sure I hadn't spontaneously regenerated. It happens, and I wanted to take no chances." He resumed stroking my hair and leaned a little closer.

"Is it still viable to reverse it?" my question was honest; the healing process without Force assistance is imperfect; damage that wasn't meant to occur often does. For all my talent, I was far less versed in medical knowledge than Visas or Mical, who both had formal training. Force healing is instinctual, in depth knowledge of anatomy is helpful, but not necessary. I had studied it, of course – all Jedi do. But I had very little practical experience in traditional medicine or surgery.

"As of two years ago, yeah," Atton assured me. He was silent again for a time, then continued. "I've changed a lot this last year," he said very quietly. "But I can't get my head around being a dad. What would I tell a rebellious teenager? Straighten up or you'll end up killing Jedi like me? I'm the very worst example you can give a kid." A year ago he would have said this angrily, now he just seemed sad.

"Not anymore," I said softly. "I've seen you with Danni, and she adores you. Maybe you should let go what you were, and move on as who you are now."

"I should," he said soberly. "But I can't help but think what a mess it would be if my kid throws my past in my face."

"Well," I said brightly. "It might be an advantage if we have daughters. What potential boyfriend would dare cross _you_?"

He laughed at that, a little hollowly. "Helen is going to have her hands full when some guy gets brave enough to court her. Canderous will go ballistic."

"Yes, but it's Jennet he really should be worried about," I teased. "Canderous can only kill him once. Jennet can heal him, and kill him again."

"So she's raising the dead now?" Atton chuckled. "Nice trick. You have a point, though…faced with those two, I'd choose Canderous any day. I suspect Jennet's temper would be worse than any Mandalorian's with sufficient motivation."

"Wait a minute…" something hit me and I narrowed my eyes. "If you're sterile reversible, why did you ask if I was pregnant?"

"Like I said, things happen," he said, startled. "You know I get paranoid about things. You don't think I was suggesting you'd…that you'd slept with someone besides me?"

"I guess not," I said, mollified at his sincere tone.

He chuckled, a genuinely amused sound that reverberated around the still air. "Sweetheart, you haven't got a disloyal bone in your body, and you're the most discriminate person I know. You don't sleep around. Unlike me, catting around with willing females around the galaxy," he added unwisely.

"Hmph," was all I could come up with, and unconsciously drew away from him.

"Not any more," he said, pulling me back against him. "I haven't wanted another woman since I laid eyes on you on Peragus."

"Really?" I asked, relaxing a fraction.

"Really," he said firmly. "I look, and I flirt, but I don't touch. And I haven't wanted to. I know what I have. I don't deserve you, but I'm smart enough to keep you."

"Maybe," I allowed with a sniff.

"Doubt thou the stars are fire, doubt that the sun doth move…but never doubt I love," he quoted, kissing the top of my head. "I love you, Dria. I would never betray that."

"I know," I whispered, and melted against him. His arms tightened around me and I closed my eyes. "I love you too."

We snuggled on the dock for uncounted minutes, breathing each other's air and letting the rhythm of our heartbeats fall into sync. I sat up slowly, drawing away gently, and turned to I could see his eyes.

"You've distracted me as long as you can," I said, keeping my tone light. "But you never answered my question."

He sighed heavily, his dark eyes troubled. "I can't lie and say I'm thrilled with the idea of having kids," he said regretfully. "Not even to spare you. But," he held up a hand when I started to speak, "I can say that it doesn't scare me as badly as it used to. To have a little girl that had your smile and red hair…that could change my mind."

"What about a son?" I asked, holding my breath. I could picture a miniature Atton with his cocky grin and dark eyes, bolting off to watch swoop races with his friends. Or training in the conclave, talking back to the teachers and earning extra meditation time for his pranks.

"With you for a mother," he said slowly, "he'd turn out much better than me." He shook his head, as if trying to rid himself of bad memories. "Mom did the best she could," he said with a sad ghost of a smile. "But she was never strong, and living in the refugee camp was hard. But she was a lady, and wouldn't put up with her son being a total hooligan. She died when I was thirteen, and I grew up the rest of the on the streets of Nar Shadaa. I learned how to live by my wits and charm and was the best pickpocket on the planet, until a man named Merrit caught me when I was fifteen. I thought he was going to turn me over to what passed as authorities, but he didn't. He took me in. He was a petty criminal, but a kind one. Taught me Pazzak, too…he had a wicked sharp mind. He was the one that encouraged me to enlist, actually…said I was too good for the life of a smuggler and con artist. Who knows, if Revan hadn't turned, I might have been an officer now." He shrugged fatalistically.

"Was Merrit the one that taught you to fly?" I asked curiously.

"Yeah. He was a terrific pilot, and said I had potential to be even better. The Republic polished my skills there; I flew scout ships and did ground reconnaissance as well. When I ran from the Sith, I fell back on the only life I knew; smuggling, Pazzak, and cons. Jack Rand was dead, there was no way I could safely join the Republic fleet again." He frowned. "Besides, it's much easier to hide among the criminal set – they ask fewer questions. Before I joined the Army, though, Merrit had a small band of men that had various skills; one of them taught me computer hacking, well, actually, more like enhanced what I already knew. I'd picked up a lot when I was living on the streets. Knowing how to pick a security lock was often the difference between sleeping in a warm warehouse or freezing in a doorway. I avoided the refugee sector unless absolutely necessary; too many memories and too much despair. And I haunted the library, reading tech manuals and logging on to the public computers. I learned about poetry when a librarian who I had gotten to know gave me a book that was going to be thrown away. I still have it," his eyes were dreamy.

"You didn't think you deserved to live respectably," I observed quietly, bringing the point back around, and he nodded.

"That too," he shrugged again. "I thought about going into some sort of legitimate business. I had the capital to start. But it puts you too much in the public's eye and I didn't want that. I liked the freedom to tread both worlds, too," he added honestly. "I clean up all right, and could blend in wherever I was." He leaned forward, elbows on knees, and swished his feet moodily. A fish nibbled at his toe and he jerked it away in reflex. When he spoke again, it was with an intensity that made me shiver.

"Revan scared me, if not straight, at least she spurred my sense of self-preservation. Rowena," he said the name of the last Jedi he had killed quietly, "showed me what I _could_ become. Both if I stayed, and if I had the courage to atone. But," he said bitterly, "I did neither – I ran, but didn't try to make up for what I'd done. I did what I'd always done – looked out for me, and no one else. So I drifted." He leaned back on his elbows, staring at nothing, his face bleak. Then his face softened, and he looked at me. "Until I got to Peragus," he elbowed me lightly, "and met this solemn redhead who had her own demons. And suddenly, it wasn't enough to survive – I wanted something to live for."

I smiled, and he sat up and kissed me thoroughly. Putting me away from him he bent his head to look me in the eye. "What I'm saying is…you made me see what I was looking for. You stood there in that jail, with nothing on but underwear and a torch in your hand and proved that someone could fight to be better, to give a stranger a chance. For the first time, I wanted a woman not for what she could do for me, but for what she was. And I knew in that minute that what I was wasn't good enough, not by a long shot. I wanted to be better. At first, for you. Then, later, for me."

"Isn't that what a parent does?" I asked carefully. "Tries to be better for the sake of their child?"

"Yes," Atton said, and suddenly smiled his sweet honest smile. "Who's had as much practice as me at that, anyway?"

I didn't answer, just kissed him and smiled.

"So," he said briskly, as if we'd been discussing the weather, "I could be a father, and not just for your sake. But Dria…let's not rush into it, okay?"

"Of course not," I agreed, my heart singing. "We have time."

He nodded, and kissed my cheek. "That's settled then. I needed to talk to about something else though, before the wedding."

"What is it?" I asked as we resumed our snuggling.

"While you were off saving Revan, I took care of some things. I wasn't sure where we would be when you got back, but I hoped…well, you know all that. Anyway, I made a few trips and got my finances in order and put a portion of it with Canderous' broker. I want to make a stop on Onderon before we head to our honeymoon so you can sign on to the account." He said it casually enough, but I knew better and looked at him sharply.

"Atton," I said suspiciously, "How _did_ you manage to afford the Sphinx?"

"It was cheap," he said, a trifle defensively. "More than the Phoenix, but it was in even better shape, practically new."

"All right," I said patiently, "but that's still a lot of credits." I gave him my best Commander's stare and he winked. I scowled back.

"What are you not telling me?" I asked crisply.

"I made a good living smuggling," he said with practiced casualness. "And I didn't spend much. Losing my ship on Peragus didn't make a dent."

"Are you telling me," I demanded, "that all this time I've thought you were as poor as me, and you're worth a small fortune?"

"No," Atton's eyes were lively with mischief. "I'm worth a pretty large one, I'm afraid."

"What," I asked in an awful voice, "did you do?"

"Smuggled," he said cheerfully. "Ill-gotten gains, the lot."

I really had no problem with that, even Jedi smuggle from time to time due to the confusing and sometimes illogical, not to mention often economically crippling, laws governing various star systems. It was the sort of activity that most governments look the other way over; the right bribe and you go about your business. They'll make a show of capturing a cargo now and then, and the truly dangerous sort like arms dealing is dealt with harshly. But taking medicine or food supplies to far-reaching planets to sell on the black market is simply how things work. Atton assured me that he rarely smuggled weapons, never dealt with recreational drugs, and only occasionally would carry a cargo he honestly didn't know what it was – always in those cases under threat. Mostly, he'd transported medicine, foodstuffs, alcohol, and people, specializing in successfully breaching the most difficult ports. And made a killing.

"I kept a couple dozen accounts on various planets, under about six aliases," he confessed, not a bit repentant. "While you were gone, I emptied all those accounts and turned about a third over to the broker on Onderon, and set up another on Dantooine and Coruscant. All above-board, under my right name," he assured me. "We'll need to get you on those as well."

I just stared at him, open mouthed.

"Really, Dria, you'll catch a bug," he said playfully.

I snapped my mouth closed and regarded him gravely. "I don't know what to say," I said finally. "How much are we talking, here?"

He named a figure that made me dizzy and I gasped. "That's almost what the Queen of Onderon is rumored to be worth," I said, feeling my jaw drop again. "My Gods, Atton, I had no idea."

"Well," he said thoughtfully, "It was about twice that, but I donated some to the refugees on Nar Shadaa, and some to the Mandoa fund. Canderous is insisting on it being a loan, but I'll talk him around."

"Good luck with that," I said dryly. "And to think I appointed _Quatz_ as treasurer for the Council. Wait," I realized suddenly, "_that's_ what he meant about your generous contribution!" I stood up, feet dripping on the planks of the dock. "At the Council meeting he said our finances were in great shape," I began to pace, Atton watching me in amusement. "And he thanked me for the contributions of my former Padawan. I thought he meant for all of your work rebuilding the Council and Order when I was gone, but he meant you. No wonder he stopped objecting to our marriage," I glared at Atton. "You bribed the Council!"

"No," he corrected firmly, "I didn't. The contribution came _after _that change in Jedi law had been decided. And Quatz _did_ mean all of us; that adventure of ours was quite profitable all around. Bao Dur has pledged half his earnings from his infiltration program to the Order, and everyone else contributed as well. Even you."

"Me?" I said stupidly, looking at him in confusion. "How did I contribute?"

"Well," he said, suddenly looking uncomfortable, "you aren't poor. All of us amassed quite a bit of portable wealth, right? And you mostly stashed yours away in that chest in the Ebon Hawk. Remember what you did with it?"

I nodded. "I gave it to you. Well, most of it. I kept some."

"Yeah, which you gave away to every street urchin with a sad story while we were trying to save the galaxy," Atton grinned.

"I saw you slip some of those kids a few credits here and there," I grinned back.

"True," he dismissed this charge with a wave of his hand. "But the money you gave me, I invested. Along with everything Bao Dur, Mira, Visas, and Disciple contributed."

"Played Pazzak with, you mean," I said shrewdly.

"Sometimes, yeah," he said comfortably. "But I gave a few merchants a boost, and they paid back with interest, that sort of thing. A couple of swoop bike racers needed a backer; I used the credits to help them out, and they shared their winnings for a few races. In the six months you were gone, I increased the original amount by five hundred percent. All legally, I might add," he said proudly.

"That's incredible," I said admiringly.

"It's more than enough to completely rebuild the conclave," Atton said modestly. "Revan and Carth contributed too, when they found out about it."

"But Quatz specifically mentioned _you_," I pointed out. "Why?"

He looked uncomfortable again. "I might have made a private donation on top of that."

I sighed. "I'm not even going to ask." I sat again, shaking my head. "I expect you didn't flaunt your money because it would have gotten you noticed," I guessed.

"Exactly," he confirmed. "I never needed much to get by, anyway. When you found me on Peragus, I literally had nothing with me but the clothes on my back and the blaster I scrounged. We never went near any of cities I had accounts at or I would have found a way to access them. By the time I was free to travel, I had more than enough on hand anyway."

"You're good at enlarging your assets," I admitted with a smile. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised by any of this."

"Well, even if you'd known beforehand, I know you aren't marrying me for my credits," he smiled back.

"That's true," I nodded. "I've never had to worry about credits much. I guess I'll never have to."

"So you're okay with it?" Atton asked, his eyes betraying some worry.

"It's a shock, yes," I said carefully. "But it's not like I'd ask you to give it all away. I guess…I just feel suddenly like the milkmaid marrying the prince in a children's fable."

"It's just credits, Dria. If you want to talk class distinction, you're far above mine." He drew me closer, wrapping his arms around me and resting his chin on the top of my head. "Truth is, I've given away almost as much as I've made over the years. But I just kept accumulating more. I think the Sphinx is the most expensive thing I've ever bought for myself. Or anyone." I felt him shift a little and press a box into my hand. "Until this."

I looked up and met his eyes. They were shining with a hopeful, almost shy look. Even when he'd given me my engagement ring he hadn't been so eager. I opened the box and sucked in my breath.

It was a moonstone, set in a lacy delicate oval of white gold. The entire piece was about the size of two credit discs. Sapphires encircled the center stone, a hint of violet glittering in their dark blue depths. I lifted it from the box, almost afraid to touch such exquisite loveliness. Turning it in my palm, I saw it could be worn as a brooch or hung from a chain as a pendant. Looking closer, I saw the jeweler's mark and gasped.

"This is from the same jeweler that half the royalty in the galaxy patronize," I said accusingly. "You shouldn't have."

"I wanted you to have something special as a wedding gift," Atton said, dismissing my protest. "I thought it looked good with the rings."

"It's gorgeous," I breathed. "But…I don't have anything for you," I said with a stab of regret.

"I have everything I need right here," he answered, and kissed me.


	24. Last Hurrah

We walked hand in hand back to the Mandalore's house, my wedding present tucked safely in the pouch at my belt. Jennet was up and about now, almost back to her old energetic self after only an amazing two days of recovery. She took Helen everywhere with her in a clever padded carrier the baby could sleep comfortably in, or snug against her chest in a sling.

"I want her used to constantly changing surroundings," Jennet confided when I complimented her on how easily she managed to go about her business with a baby in tow. "She'll be with us on the Draconia, you know, and life in the military is mobile."

I agreed with this logic, but privately thought part of it was Jennet was simply reveling in her new role as a mother.

"Besides," she said, as if plucking this thought from me, "I don't want to miss any more than I have to. I just love watching her," she added fondly, tickling Helen's toes and cooing. "She watches everything, I swear."

It certainly did seem as if Helen gazed out at the world and took note of it. Logically, I understood babies couldn't see or reason that well, but I had to agree with Jennet; Helen seemed unusually aware for a newborn.

"She could turn out to be one hell of a Jedi," Atton observed, making funny faces at the baby. Helen regarded his antics solemnly. "Her aura's amazing."

I'd seen that too, and Jennet nodded in agreement. "Everyone's said so," she boasted proudly. "But she has Canderous' temper; just wait 'til she's hungry!"

We laughed, and joined everyone for lunch. Lorna was doubling now as nanny to Helen, but her duties were light; Jennet enjoyed seeing to her daughter's comfort. Canderous, to no one's surprise who really knew him, was apt to carry Helen around on one strong arm, hardly setting her down to eat when he wasn't out in the field, supervising the settling of the Mandoa that arrived almost daily. He had expressed an interest in taking his daughter along soon, even consenting to wearing the sling, so the Mandoa could get to know her. It was a thinly veiled excuse to spend time with his child, which fooled no one, but was tactfully accepted.

"She's only two days old," Jennet had scolded gently. "Give it a week or so."

Everyone was in and out all day, some taking care of wedding details, others with their daily duties for the Mandoa, or helping out with cleaning and decorating the great hall, where the reception would take place. The ceremony would be out on the grounds at the foot of the dock, where there was plenty of room for everyone to gather. Compared to the Mandalore's wedding, the guest list was modest; most of the Mandoa had no interest in a Jedi wedding. All of the Order would attend, along with Megari, Lorna, the honor guard, and the Elders, making a total number of forty people, including the wedding party. Three more Elders had found their way to Dxun, Canderous had mentioned. I wondered if they were as adaptable and friendly as Elders Evana, Drane, and Gregor, whom I had met during the Mate trials.

I was putting the finishing touches on polishing the sideboard in the hall when Mira whirled in with her usual energetic stride.

"There you are," she said, amber eyes sparkling with excitement. "I've been looking for you."

"Here I am," I agreed, dropping the polishing cloth into the bucket at my feet. I eyed her warily. "You have that look on your face," I observed. "Should I be worried?"

"Nope," Mira positively glowed. "I was just wondering if you had any plans tonight."

"Nothing beyond a good night's sleep," I said a trifle wistfully. Atton had insisted again on bunking on board the Sphinx.

"Well, now you do," she informed me. "Jennet's kicking Canderous and the honor guard out and we're having a girl's night. A last hurrah for the brides. We didn't get that chance with Jennet."

"I see," I regarded her thoughtfully. If it was up to me, I would be reading a good book with a glass of wine in front of the holofire. But I suspected the rest of the ladies would enjoy this, so I shrugged and smiled. "Sounds like fun."

"Oh, it will be," Mira promised. "Lorna's got snacks prepared already, and I'm in charge of entertainment."

"Entertainment?" I inquired with a lift of my eyebrows.

"Sure," Mira said. "Haven't you ever been to a bride's party?"

"Never," I said dryly. "Jedi raised, you know." I looked at her consideringly. "I'm surprised _you_ have."

"Well, I was only twelve," she said with a laugh. "And it was when I was a captive of the Mandoa. It was in a camp during the war. So I wasn't really participating, you know, I was a servant. But it was fun," she assured me. "We invited the women Jedi, too. Hope that's okay."

"Certainly," I said, hoping their presence would tone down the light in Mira's eye. Not that I held much hope of that. "What are the men going to be up to?" I asked, a sudden suspicious thought crossing my mind.

"Canderous is treating them to a night on Onderon," Mira said cheerfully. "The wedding isn't until sundown, so they have plenty of time to get back."

On the whole, I got the better end of it, I thought. Atton was stuck with Quatz all night. I grinned.

"Count me in."

The men departed late afternoon with much rowdy jesting. Atton kissed me lingeringly before he headed off, and I saw Dustil, Carth, Bao Dur, Canderous, Dax, and Jarxel similarly taking leave of their ladies, the Mandalore adding a wistful kiss to Helen's cheek. I overheard his low rumbling voice complaining about host duties, but he didn't seem unwilling to go, and Jennet cheerfully told him to have fun. He made a non-committal grunt and she laughed.

I looked up at Atton, who was grinning; he'd heard the exchange as well.

"He'll be all right," Atton chuckled in a low voice. "He could use a night out with the guys."

"Just don't get arrested," I admonished with a grin.

"With all the Jedi along? Not likely," he laughed. "Although it might be worth it just to irritate Quatz."

"If you delay this wedding again…" I let the warning hang.

"Nothing to worry about," he hastened to assure me. "We'll be back in plenty of time."

"Have fun," I called at the men trooped out.

Of the honor guard, only Dax joined the party. Zuka, who had taken a shine to Lorna, volunteered to stay with her at Megari's to watch over Helen and Danni, Kex with him. The remainder of the honor guard would be spending the night in the barracks. There had been some grumbling about that until Jennet reasonably pointed out that every one of the women present was perfectly able to take care of themselves, and who would attack us in the Mandalore's own house, anyway?

"That's exactly the sort of thinking that gets you in trouble, my Lady," Kelborn rumbled. "But Zuka and Kex will be nearby, and the barracks are just a comm away. You'll be safe enough," he added generously.

"Thanks," Jennet said rather dryly.

Lorna disappeared with Helen and her guards in tow, and the rest of us retired to Jennet's large family room. Wine, whiskey, and food were passed around, and the ladies chatted comfortably. To my mild embarrassment, Mira and Megari insisted on a pampering session, and had even engaged several massage therapists, as well as beauticians to give us all manicures and pedicures. The process of facials, nails and massage took several hours and when we were done, I was relaxed and feeling wonderful, despite my initial misgivings.

I was just sipping my second glass of wine when Mira eyed me disdainfully, eyeing my comfortable tunic and breeches. "Go change," she ordered without preamble. She looked around at the rest of the party and said firmly, "All of you."

"Excuse me?" I asked mildly, wondering what she had in mind.

"We're going out," she announced. "Won't do to have you all in scruffy tunics or Jedi robes. Go find something pretty."

"My clothes are at the apartment," I pointed out. "And I don't have anything but my wedding dress."

"You have that green one," Mira said promptly. "And I told Revan to bring it. Go get dressed."

I glanced around but no one else seemed at all surprised, confirming my suspicion that Mira had disclosed the evening's program to everyone but the brides. Revan and Mission looked as puzzled as me, but were sparkling with equal parts anticipation and amusement, so I did what Mira asked. There was a flurry of female primping, and in short order all of us were dressed. Even Rene, Celia and Sharika had produced clothing suitable for a night out.

Feeling uncomfortably out of my element, I sought my fellow brides, who were just coming down the enormous main staircase. Mission looked lovely in the same dark blue Twi'lek dancing costume she had worn to Jennet's wedding seven months ago. It was far less revealing than the one I had donned for the Hutt that Atton liked so well, being trousers and close-fitting top rather than a loose skirt and bra design. The pant legs were filmy, but not slit up the sides, the top low cut but had sleeves to match the pants, and while there was a good sized gap between the bottom of the shirt and the waistband of the pants, the overall effect was innocent sensuality. I smiled at her flushed face and sparkling eyes and complimented her outfit.

"Thanks, Aunt Dree," she said in her breathless way. "My wedding clothes are kind of the same, except the top has short sleeves off the shoulder, and it's a skirt. But you look pretty! I love that green, it's almost the color of your eyes. And you should always wear your hair like that."

She had seen me in this dress before, of course, but I thanked her for the compliment. I had forgone the usual smooth roll at my nape in favor of braids wound around my head. The style took longer, which is why I didn't do it that often, but I had to admit it was flattering. I had allowed a few wisps to frame my face to soften the effect. I smiled at a few random comments and turned to Revan. My best friend looked lovely in a flame red gown, sleeveless with a draped neckline and handkerchief hemline that hit her nearly at the ankle. I looked her over critically and saw the discrete bulge of her lightsaber when she moved her leg. She'd strapped hers to her thigh, the uneven hem of her gown not allowing an ankle holster, as I had.

The other Jedi, including Jennet, all had their 'sabers at their belts, regardless of costume. Megari didn't look armed, but I suspected she had some sort of weapon on her person; Bao Dur had been encouraging her to learn at least basic self-defense and I'd noticed a definite increase in her confidence level, which told me the lessons were going well. I had spotted the dagger sheaths along Mission's and Jennet's spines and the young Twi'lek woman had a shield strapped to her left wrist, artfully disguised as a bracelet.

"We all ready to go?" Mira asked brightly. "Okay then, follow me."

Jennet sped up and along with Mira, led the group to the pair of speeders waiting in front of the house. I cocked an eyebrow at this; surely walking would be just as easy? But Jennet caught the look and giggled.

"The place Mira booked is at least ten klicks from here," she explained. "That's no distance at all for any of us, but it takes time, so we thought the speeders would be more practical. Besides, everyone but Mission and Megari can burn off any alcohol consumed, and I'm not drinking more than a glass of wine while I'm nursing Helen. A lovely side effect of healing; you never have to deal with hangovers." She grinned and looked so like a kid with her hand caught in the candy bin I laughed.

We piled into the speeders and traveled the orderly streets of the newest part of the city. I took the opportunity to admire the workmanship of the buildings we passed and the cleanliness of the public areas. Instinctively, I knew that this was not simply because everything was so new; it was because the Mandoa were proud of their home and kept it in military-inspection order. It was no accident that the general layout and starkness of the various shops and homes resembled a military camp on campaign. The pride of the people kept it from seeming soulless and forbidding, and I found myself feeling comfortable and welcome.

The door we stopped at looked like any of the others on the street, austere and anonymous. But after parking the speeders and opening the door, light spilled onto the sidewalk and a roar of hearty laughter rolled over us. Mira and Jennet spoke to a woman just inside the door who was wearing casual but well made tunic and breeches, an apron wrapped around her waist and hair braided not unlike mine. She grinned at the two, bowed respectfully to Jennet, and led us all to a long table near the two stages at the front of the room. One raised dais housed a live band, enthusiastically grinding out the sort of noise you normally find in the seedier cantinas. I didn't mind; I appreciate all types of music, and I saw Mira's head bobbing a bit to the beat, tossing a wave to the singer, who returned her salute but didn't interrupt her song. I caught up to her just as I registered the occupants of the second stage.

"Mira," I groaned in disbelief, pitching my voice loud enough to be heard. "You brought three traditional Jedi _here_?"

She flashed a wicked grin that showed her dimples. "I'm betting they're not as stuffy as they seem," she shouted back, and nodded to Celia, Sharika, and Rene.

To my surprise, they were smiling and chatting with everyone as if they were attending a diplomatic reception and not ensconced in a strip club that catered to earthy Mandalorian women. The gentleman currently bumping and grinding on the stage was close to Bao Dur's height and build and his leather chaps proudly displayed the tiny thong barely containing his assets. I knew it was a thong because he did a complicated shimmy that spun him around, bent him at the waist nearly in half as he shook his posterior to the enthusiastic catcalls of the women. I stared for a moment; it was a magnificent backside, I had to admit. I had a fleeting thought of Atton similarly engaged and blushed. His total lack of self consciousness would make him a great living…somewhere else, I admitted. While tall and well-built, he wasn't nearly burly enough for Mandalorian women's taste.

The entertainment that night was as creative as it was bawdy and after a few drinks everyone was relaxed enough to join in the shouts and general appreciation of the mostly female crowd. I saw a few men among the patrons, looking both parts amused and surly at their companion's antics. One small group of four soldiers was gathered at a table right next to the musician's stage and I wondered what they were doing in this place without female companionship.

That question was answered when the first female performer stepped out on stage. Her routine was as earthy as any of the males, but charged with sensuality that no man could duplicate. It was obvious she wasn't catering to the few males present, either. She was tall and muscular and proved her flexibility with moves that would make a Jedi in battle proud. I applauded as loudly as the rest when she took her bow; I am not interested in women as lovers but appreciate the beauty of a woman's body and uninhibited enthusiasm. The four men roared louder than anyone, then nudged each other with wide, smug grins as the next performer came on.

This one was male, and obviously out of his element, but what he lacked in experience, he made up for in enthusiasm. His glances at the table near the second stage made me suspect he was up there not necessarily by choice and the announcement afterwards confirmed it.

"Let's hear it for Argus in his debut performance!" the hostess called, and the crowd screamed back their approval. "We hope you lose more bets in the future!" She smacked Argus' bare behind and he flashed a resigned grin at the gesture. "A piece of that is welcome here anytime!" The roar of laughter drowned out any more comments and the next dancer was up.

The evening progressed as the parade of nearly naked flesh gyrated across the stage. For every five males, there was one female performer who was received with as much enthusiasm as her counterparts. While the show was overtly sexual in nature, I was intrigued by the fact that no one actually stripped nude, in fact most of the various performances were built around tantalizing glimpses but no actual blatant show of anything beyond buttocks and cleavage. I wondered at this and leaned toward Mira.

"Mandalorians on the whole have no inhibitions about their bodies," she answered my comments with a twinkle in her amber eyes and a mock lewd wink. "But they really get how it's the suggestion, not the actual display that gets the interest and keeps the tension high. Half the Mandalorian men don't get all of their armor off after battle and their women love it. Besides, as competitive as they are, they keep the real show for last, with only the best. The dancers fight tooth and nail to be chosen for the showcase performance."

"What do you mean by that?" I shouted over the applause.

"Just watch; the last two dances are coming up now," Mira winked and nodded to the stage.

This man was taller than Dax, had shoulders that could hold four small children easily and arms as big around as my thigh. He was as blond as Mical and sported just enough chest hair to give him a golden glow in the dim light of the stage. He moved like a big cat, prowling over the stage as if hunting clever and tender prey. Several layers of clothing slipped off of him so smoothly I couldn't see how he managed it. With each item, the fever pitch of the ladies increased until the crowd became one unbroken cry of longing. I glanced at Jennet and saw her astonished face, her hands stilled in the act of applauding. Puzzled, I looked closer at the face of the dancer just as the last scrap of material dropped from his hands. He stood utterly nude, proud and magnificent, with the body of a God and the face of an angel, a half smile of satisfaction on his face.

"Oh my Gods," I gasped, my hand clamping down on Mira's arm. "That's…"

"Yep," Mira nodded, grinning all over her face. "Our own little Xarga."

"Not so little," I giggled. "Does Canderous know?"

"Sure," Mira shrugged. "He doesn't care as long as his honor guard and military duties aren't neglected."

"Jennet obviously didn't," I nodded at our stunned friend. She was staring open mouthed, as if she wanted to look away but couldn't.

"Well," Mira said judiciously, "the honor guard is very protective of the fact she's not born Mandoa. Didn't want to shock their Lady, you see."

"Too late now," I observed as Xarga seemed to spot Jennet. His eyes widened, but he rose to the challenge and bowed gracefully at his now blushing Lady, for all the world as if he were in his dress uniform and not clothed in simply a smile. He took his leave from stage with a dignity and grace that should have been out of place but wasn't.

"He's…beautiful." I said admiringly. It wasn't the right word, but it somehow fit.

"Very," Mira chuckled. "Makes Dax crazy when I catch Xarga's act. But Dax is just as gorgeous, so he doesn't really mind. What about Atton?" she asked with a wicked wink.

"He'd give them all a run for their money," I said, feeling a blush stain my cheekbones.

"Everywhere?" she grinned again, and I nodded wordlessly. In this atmosphere, it never occurred to me to be less than honest. "He's not as tall, of course, or as broad, but he's beautiful all the same."

Jennet made her way to us and plopped down in the empty seat beside Mira. She was fanning herself with a stray menu and blushing uncontrollably. "You knew!" she said accusingly to her friend.

"Sure," Mira said comfortably, a cat's smile on her face. "Someone had to enlarge your education."

"Fer shit's sake, how am I going to look Xarga in the eye again?" Jennet demanded. "I mean, I knew he was good looking and in great shape but, oh man…" he voice trailed off and her face grew even pinker.

"Don't worry," Mira soothed. "He'll act like you never saw it, and that will be that."

"What does the rest of the Guard think?" Jennet asked curiously. "They must know; and Canderous. Xarga wouldn't do something like this on the sly."

"Who do you think got him up there in the first place?" Mira laughed. "When Hannah leased this club, Kelborn pointed it out to Xarga. It's a great way to blow off steam and he likes his men content. Xarga's a showoff at heart, you know, and he likes women a lot. No harm in it at all. The ladies who come here will be disappointed when he leaves with the Mandalore, though."

"I can see that," Jennet said, her blush fading and being replaced by a grin.

"So how does he compare to Canderous?" Mira asked bluntly, elbowing Jennet lightly. She flushed hotly but smiled.

"Let's just say Xarga would be out of a job if Canderous ever decided to work up an act." Jennet said, and Mira laughed delightedly.

"Hush, now, the last act's starting," I said, chuckling to myself and turning to the stage.

The Mandalorian woman who slowly crawled across the floor was as tall as Atton, well proportioned and in full armor. Her mane of black hair spilled around her shoulders as she shimmied to the beat of a surprisingly slow tune. Like Xarga, her movements were catlike and predatory, miming a battle with an invisible opponent. She carried a vibrosword that flashed in the spotlights as she whirled and parried and thrust. How she managed to peel off the armor one handed I never did figure out. But one by one the pieces fell to the stage, revealing skimpy panties and very little else but the leather sheath at her hips. Her Clan tattoos glowed in the dim light and I recognized the artistry of Angus, one of the Mandalorians that was with the mercenaries led by Dax on Telos. He had done Jennet's shortly before her marriage. This dancer had one displayed on her right arm and the Ordo phoenix on her left breast. I was awed at her skill and beauty; she had the finely chiseled features of an ancient warrior priestess. Coupled with her tall, muscular yet utterly feminine figure, she was a breathtaking sight. It was interesting to me that her act generated a more orderly response, but a higher level of erotic anticipation. When she stood center stage in her flawless glory, the applause shook the rafters.

"Wow," was the only word that came to mind, and Mira winked again.

"Looking forward to your wedding night?" she asked, and all I could do was nod.

As we spilled out of the cantina and made our way to the speeders, all of the women were chattering enthusiastically about the performances, especially the final two.

"That man…magnificent!" Rene gushed, her Lekku quivering and her lovely pink skin a shade darker than usual. "He's one of your honor guard, yes?" she nudged Jennet with a teasing smile.

"Yes," Jennet confirmed, blushing again. "I had no idea."

"Men," Rene sniffed. "So overprotective. But _what_ a man," she said dreamily.

I looked around and saw Sharika in the doorway, speaking to the last dancer, now clad modestly in breeches and tunic. The proprietress was with them and we waited until Sharika bade them farewell.

"I have offered to become a patron of the club," she explained when she caught up to us. "Such talent should be encouraged."

"That was generous," Jennet said, surprised.

"I am Jedi, but I am also a woman," Sharika shrugged. "There is nothing wrong with being proud of that. Such places are more respectable than credit is given. Sallina is a most charming woman, and Hannah will be losing her soon, when she joins the Mandalore. I want to ensure they both have a place when the Mandoa return."

Jennet thanked her for her interest, and we all clambered into the speeders. It was getting close to dawn and I was suddenly very tired. Once back at the Mandalore's home, I gratefully sought my bed, thanking my friends warmly for an entertaining night. Before I slid into sleep I wondered how the men fared on Onderon. I hadn't felt anything through any of my connections, and tried to follow Atton's bright bond with my mind. He was blocking me somewhat, but it didn't bother me; likely they were all engaging in general male rowdy fun and didn't want the women to catch a glimpse. As that was more or less how I had felt, I smiled and drifted to sleep.

_Well love, I hope you're enjoying yourself, _was my last coherent thought.

* * *

Atton sat on the bench between Carth and Dustil, arms crossed over his chest. Bao Dur, Will Cantor, Jarn, Timon, Windor, Gru, Renault, Geru and Jolee were with them, all looking grave. The big Zabrak was the most serene, sitting back with his eyes closed, his long legs stretched before him. Across the room, Canderous, Jarxel and Dax were sitting with six more Mandalorian men, all of them bearing marks of recent battle. Canderous glowered at the Jedi in an expression that was oddly apologetic and defiant at once. 

Stefan, Disciple, Jerrel and Quatz were conspicuously absent.

"Damned bad luck," Canderous said for what must have been the dozenth time. He raised an eyebrow at Atton, who shrugged.

"Not your fault," Atton acknowledged yet again. He gazed at his friend through the force shields that housed both parties. As jail cells went, these weren't bad. He'd been in enough of them to know. Clean, at least. "But Ladria's going to kill us."


	25. A Mandalore and a Jedi Walk into a Bar

Author's note: Okay, guys, this is a big chapter. A really, really, big chapter. I hadn't meant to make it quite so large, but thought it read better this way than split into two parts.

As always, please review if you are so inclined. I appreciate the feedback and it really helps to hear your comments. Thanks, everyone!

Always, LJ

_

* * *

__Nine hours earlier_

The trip from Dxun to Onderon was quick, but crowded with nineteen on board the Phoenix. Canderous in his role as host had insisted on escorting them all. It would have taken two shuttles to accommodate so large a party; much more efficient to take the falcon. Atton sat as copilot, watching Dax proudly fly his Mandalore's favorite possession. He was a good pilot, Atton noted, competent and steady. If he lacked Atton's brilliance behind the controls, well, he certainly had nothing to be ashamed of. Few pilots were as instinctive as he was, he knew. It wasn't boastful when it was truth. Carth, now, Atton would love to pit himself against. He may be close to fifty and hadn't flown in combat for a while, but the man had the touch. Confident, cool headed and just reckless enough to be a real threat. Atton could learn a trick or two from the admiral and wondered when they might have some time to really talk shop.

They parked at the docks and Canderous handled visas and landing fees. That done, he led them to a local hotel to check in. The plan was to party on Onderon, sleep it off, then fly back mid-afternoon tomorrow. That still gave everyone plenty of time to spiff up for the ceremony. Atton hadn't bothered to bring anything with him but his lightsaber and a shave kit, not trusting the disposable jobs found at hotels. Laundry recyclers ensured he'd have fresh clothing and he was used to traveling light. He noticed no one else carried a bag either.

More interesting, no one, not even Quatz, was in robes. All the Jedi carried their 'sabers, of course, which is a dead giveaway, robes or no. He wondered if the collective decision to wear casual clothes was from the last year's habit of not drawing attention to large group of Jedi, or in deference to their Mandalorian host. For his part, he was proud to be Jedi, but found he still felt a bit like a fraud in robes, so wore them only on official occasion or when his status mattered, like when he'd gone to the Eternity to meet Ladria.

The Mandalorians all had blasters and swords strapped either to their backs or their hip, along with the shields none of them ever left Dxun without. He suspected most of the others had other more concealable weapons stashed on their persons; he always carried a dagger or two in a boot or wrist sheath. Old habits die hard.

Check in took no time at all and with no luggage to stow no one bothered to go to their rooms yet, just took the passkey and pocketed it. They gathered in the lobby, the size of the group attracting attention. Nineteen men usually meant a mercenary group looking for work; unusual in the more upscale hotels. Atton was amused by Canderous' choice, knowing like himself the Mandalore would have preferred to either sleep on the ship or take a room in the seedier part of town. But he was taking his duty as host seriously and chose something that the more senior Jedi would be comfortable in.

"It's early for dinner yet," Canderous rumbled in his deep voice. "I thought you gents would enjoy a night out, Mandalorian-style. We don't stand on ceremony much. But we have an hour or two before the real nightlife starts. Anyone have any suggestions?"

"I have a couple of errands I need to run," Atton spoke up. "Wedding details," he explained with a grin. The expected joshing of being whipped came, which he fended off cheerfully. "Ladria can kick any one of your asses," he said easily. "I like mine intact, thanks."

Carth nodded, adding, "Me too, actually. Revan expects _some_ participation from me. I bet you're heading where I am."

"And me," Dustil chimed in.

"Well," Canderous said, clearly amused, "you three better get your asses in gear. Wouldn't want them chewed off tomorrow."

"So says the man with the deadliest wife in known space," Atton deadpanned. This earned him a friendly, if solid, cuff to the shoulder.

They got directions to the tavern where they'd meet in two hours, and scattered. Most of the Jedi took off to see the sights. Canderous, Jarxel and Dax melted into the crowd, a nice trick for three big guys, Atton noted. That left Carth, Dustil, Stefan and Jolee. He eyed the four men and shrugged.

"Flower shop," he said briefly, and they trooped off.

Even with full access to his assets, Atton had not changed his spending habits much. He liked nice things, and good food and drink, but never felt the need to be tied down by possessions. He had often spent lavishly, however, on transient things, such as spontaneously buying a round or six at a cantina, passing the largesse off as Pazzak winnings. Trinkets for the women he indulged in, or a few nights in a really good hotel, taking advantage of the luxury services available during the day, and the high-class but expensive nightlife. And from time to time he'd anonymously paid for shelter or transport off planet of people that needed a hand, or used his pickpocket skills in reverse, slipping credits to likely looking subjects.

The few possessions he owned and never cut corners on were ships, weapons, and boots. He had been known to literally wear his footgear through the soles until he could afford or have access to the best. One thing he had to give the Republic: they issued their soldiers outstanding combat boots and Atton had learned how important such a seemingly small detail was. He could march for days in those boots and hardly ever blister, and they were almost as silent as being barefoot when he chose. In his early days of hiding from the Sith, when he was flat broke and expecting each day to be the last he breathed, he had made an inane bet with himself to keep his sanity: every day he survived, he'd put aside whatever credits he had above what he needed to eat and house himself. When he'd acquired enough, he'd go to the best cobbler in known space and get a pair of custom made boots. It had taken a year. Not to build the credits; that had only taken a few weeks. But he had been a little crazy during that time and become obsessed with finding the perfect cobbler. He'd found him on Onderon, and putting on that first pair had been almost better than sex. It had been a sort of catharsis, the first step to letting go the darkness he fleeing. Even knowing it was dangerous to acquire a steady habit that could allow someone to track him down, he couldn't let go this particular luxury, and never bought his boots anywhere else if he could help it.

With that same single-mined intensity, he had been slow to build his lightsaber until he was certain he had acquired the finest materials and designed the most efficient unit he could. He was justifiably proud of his 'saber; it was sleek and powerful and the dark blue of the crystal was almost the exact shade of Rowena's eyes, the Jedi who first opened his mind to the Force. He had chosen it to remind himself that she had believed him worth redemption. Jennet had given him a 'saber off a dead Dark Jedi, and he had changed the blade from red to blue with a crystal he'd found along their travels. When he was building a new one, he'd almost chosen green, thinking of Ladria and her gorgeous emerald gaze that looked at him with such trust and love. But on reflection, he had wanted to honor the first woman besides his mother that had really believed in him. It was a trust he never wanted to betray. Oddly, Merrit had had blue eyes too, and that comforted him somehow. He often wondered what had become of his crafty former mentor.

Following this principle of putting his money where it was important, the ship he'd lost on Peragus had been a decommissioned Republic scout sold at auction he'd picked up for a song and spent about five times what he'd paid to modify it to his own satisfaction. The ship had been soundly built, well armed, and fast, well worth the investment. Not wanting to get anything of lesser quality, he hadn't bothered to replace it until the Sphinx had turned up on the market. But _that_ baby was worth every credit and flew like a dream, he reflected with an inward smile as the five men strolled down the streets of Iziz.

He had the urge now to spend lavishly for his own pleasure, and more importantly, for Dria's. He knew credits meant very little to her, and was wise enough not to shower her with expensive playthings that she'd find pleasant but unimportant. The brooch had been a small exception; every woman needed something pretty on her wedding day. One of the things he loved the most about her was she appreciated beauty of all sorts, whether it was fine art, an otherwise plain woman with a lovely smile, lyrical poetry, music, or a lovingly tended garden. Barely aware of her own dazzling good looks, she responded to what most people never noticed: anything that was made or tended with love. He had bought the painting in his apartment both because he had an eye for quality and beauty, but also because he'd known the instant he'd seen it that Ladria would adore it. Most people would regard it as a valuable antique that was a pretty picture. Ladria saw the care and effort in making it and loved it even more for that than its composition.

It was something that Atton shared with her, but never with the same intensity or honest pleasure. Like her, he was adept at noticing people's strengths and complimenting them on it, something he enjoyed because he liked making people feel good. But he was honest; he knew the habit had started back when he was a street rat and charming people kept him better fed and out of detention centers. Ladria simply saw what good was there and spoke truth. It humbled him to see her charm someone like Quatz, knowing she personally didn't care for his narrow views, yet found something in him that was honest and fine. Atton hadn't that sort of patience, but wanting to follow Dria's example, tried hard not to bait the Quatzes of the universe as much as he had in the past.

He had been reflecting on this while habitually keeping up the constant patter in his mind while simultaneously joking with his friends. They had been discussing the merits of eloping versus a formal wedding and agreeing that tomorrow would be splitting the difference. Carth and Ladria were a lot alike, Atton had noticed, and Dustil a good deal like his father too. None of these three cared overmuch for fuss and bother. All were thoughtful, intelligent, decisive, yet cautious, but were flexible enough to trust their instincts. They all had a natural air of authority that people responded to. Only Revan possessed that as easily; Mission and Atton could project it when needed, but lacked that effortless leadership the other four exuded from their very pores.

But damn it, he wanted to have _fun_ on his wedding day, and knew Mission and Revan felt the same. Surprising his bride with flowers and candles was the most fun he could think of that Ladria wouldn't protest. It would appeal to the romantic she was and the look on her face when she saw the hall and altar decorated with thousands of blooms would be something he'd carry with him forever. Atton wanted to see that look of childlike wonder in her eyes as she came down the aisle.

Ladria chronically worried too much about everyone else to let herself go very often; it seemed to him that Carth and Dustil were the same. How Revan had retained her sense of whimsy after all she'd been through Atton hadn't a clue. But it was good for the admiral to have a mate that dragged him out of his self-imposed saving the universe mindset. Atton had made it his personal challenge to make Dria lighten up, as well. Sure, they were facing a war that was going to be ugly and never end. But if you can't laugh about it…

He jerked out of his train of thought with the clanging of the old-fashioned bell over the shop door. Carth was looking at him quizzically and he wondered what he'd just missed.

"Sorry, woolgathering," Atton said with a smile. "You were saying?"

"Just wanted to make sure we were on the same page," Carth said easily. "Not even Mission thought of flowers. I put in my order last week, you?"

"Me too," Atton confirmed. "I included arrangements for the tables, too, and a standing piece for the altar."

"I hope they got Mission's right," Dustil said worriedly. "I'll be the jerk of the universe if they made the ankle wreaths wrong."

"Listen to these saps," Jolee spoke up behind them, eyeing the three grooms with mock exasperation and nudging Stefan with a conspiratorial snort. "I can just feel the testosterone draining out of their sorry ass bodies."

"Hey, I've done this before," Carth defended. "Never screw up wedding flowers, trust me."

"It's a good thing Jennet didn't have any at hers," Stefan said cheerfully. "She doesn't know a rose from a lily. Your ladies, I think, have more discerning taste."

Jolee eyed Stefan with disgust. "You're not even getting married. No excuse at all. Damn pansies, the lot of you."

"Nope, Crysallis flowers," Atton corrected. "Beautiful and deadly as Dria."

Carth regarded Atton with respect. "I got the same for Rev," he said approvingly. "There's hope for you yet."

Jolee snorted again, but Atton saw the smile he hid. Checking on the order took about a half hour, and Atton made sure the delivery would be early afternoon.

The five Jedi made a couple of more stops, one to the chandler to assure themselves of the candle delivery, another to pick up the boots Atton had ordered two months ago and hadn't had time to retrieve. He pulled them on with a satisfied grunt and flexed his foot.

"Perfect as always, Roberre," Atton complimented, turning in the old pair for repair and tipping generously. "Best damn boot maker in the universe," he said to his companions. "You ought to order some for yourselves."

"Better than Republic issue?" Carth asked doubtfully, but his sharp eyes noted the quality and he reached toward Atton's foot reflexively. "May I?"

"Sure," Atton tugged one off and tossed it to the admiral.

Carth examined the boot, running his hands over the leather and noting the stitching, the sole, and the lining. "These _are_ good," he pronounced admiringly.

"Waterproof, and custom made. They fit so well, even new, you hardly notice you're wearing them." Atton bragged. "I always have at least three pair, to rotate around, you know. But I wanted a new pair for the wedding." His basic optimism had prompted him; as angry as he was with Ladria at the time, and not even knowing when she'd return, he'd still carried out a few preparations: designed the rings and had them made, had formal clothing tailored, and been fitted for new boots. But he didn't mention this to his friends, only adding, "Takes at least five years to wear out completely. Longer, if you can get them to Roberre for repair once in a while."

"How much?" Carth asked, and Roberre obligingly recited a price list. Carth whistled. "Expensive," he said, "but worth it if they're as good as you say. How long does it take to make a pair?"

"For you, two weeks," Roberre said promptly. "Mr. Rand is one of my best customers; it would give me pleasure to accommodate his friends. If all of you buy, I'll give a twenty percent discount."

"It's on me," Atton said with a grin. "Call it a wedding gift."

Stefan and Jolee in particular protested, but Atton talked them down, and soon all four were measured and had picked out what they wanted after thanking Atton heartily. He just shrugged and waved off their thanks.

"You'll hate me later," he laughed. "Nothing else will do now, and you'll live in poverty, saving up for your next pair."

That made them all laugh, and Jolee slapped him on the back.

"You've redeemed yourself over the flowers," he joked. "Nice to see you have some manly priorities."

They had about fifteen minutes to catch up to the rest of their party, and hurried their steps. The others were already there, taking up two large tables and gesturing to the five of them. Atton swiftly evaluated the room and chose a chair that gave him the best view of everything. He was certain Canderous had chosen these tables on purpose; anywhere you sat there was only one spot you couldn't see easily. He accepted a mug of Mandalorian ale and reminded himself to keep up enough healing that he didn't get drunk. The stuff was lethal, but very tasty. Quatz was drinking his with gusto and seemed to be unbending a bit. All to the good.

Atton found himself next to Windor, the Master with the icy blue eyes that Ladria had mentioned made her uneasy. By habit, he scanned the man's aura and found nothing out of the ordinary; the surface thoughts were the usual random words flitting around like anyone's. He was not as comfortable in a semi-seedy cantina as he seemed, Atton noted. Otherwise, perfectly normal and average powerful Jedi Master thoughts. Windor raised an eyebrow at him and tilted his mug in salute.

"To the groom," he said, and they drank. "Hear anything interesting?"

_I just did,_ Atton thought, his face slipping into his customary charming blankness. _He's confident enough in his own abilities to mask his thoughts that he let me know he noticed my probe._

He caught the slight widening of Windor's eyes when his own probe was effortlessly detected and blocked. He was good, though: that was the only indication of surprise. Windor sat back and regarded Atton thoughtfully.

"I've underestimated you," he said, pitching his voice so only the two of them could hear. "You're neither the fool you project nor, I think, the mercenary bastard I suspected was under that. Your mind control is extraordinary."

Atton smiled pleasantly. "You got half that right. I'm not a fool, but I am a mercenary bastard. Or used to be." He kept his voice light and sipped his ale.

"Possibly," Windor said. "But I don't think so. You really love her, don't you?"

"What," Atton asked, his voice now charmingly bland, "business is that of yours?" He was beginning to be pissed at this game.

"None at all," Windor said silkily. "Merely that I acknowledge your motives are pure. I congratulate you. Ladria is a lovely woman."

"She is," Atton said shortly, but even his irritation with Windor couldn't hide the softening of his eyes at the thought of Dria. Windor tipped his mug again and turned to speak to Jarn.

_What the hell was that all about?_ Atton wondered.

He put it out of his mind as dinner was ordered and the entertainment began. The cantina was a strip club, of course, and Atton caught the gleam of satisfied amusement in Canderous' eyes as he regarded his guests. Atton stifled a laugh; Mira had let slip she wanted to pull something similar on Dxun. He hoped Jennet didn't choke too hard on her wine when she saw Xarga in his natural glory. As for his own bride, the thought of her ogling naked men bothered him not at all. Dria might appreciate the view, but she didn't think the grass was greener.

Atton amused himself watching the Jedi as the floor show progressed. He paused to admire the more athletic of the beauties on stage, but mostly found the various reactions of his companions far more entertaining. Disciple was watching the women on stage with almost clinical interest, as if gauging their muscle tone and vitals statistics long distance. Bao Dur was watching his companions more than the stage, and caught Atton's eye with an amused wink. Canderous stayed in his seat, talking with anyone who spoke to him, occasionally watching the women on stage with casual disinterest. Jerrel was enjoying himself thoroughly, it seemed, animatedly chatting with his neighbors and moving around the table to speak to whoever caught his attention. He barely looked at the stage. Timon and Renault both seemed mildly amused by their surroundings and the antics of the crowd but Atton saw that Timon would occasionally watch a performer closely. The third time this occurred Atton concluded Timon had a weakness for tall, well-endowed brunettes. Carth and Dustil both watched the show with an air of if one is dragged somewhere they might as well enjoy it, which made Atton chuckle. Jarn, the youngest of the Knights and probably most sheltered of all, was trying to behave in a worldly manner but staring at all the nudity when he thought he wasn't being observed, his mouth dropping open in amazement at some of the more creative poses.

Jarxel and Dax were drinking sparingly and Atton guessed they considered themselves on duty as the Mandalore's guards. They, along with Jolee, were unabashedly eyeing the dancers, clearly not feeling any sense of impropriety. Atton considered Mira and Visas' characters and decided they both were very tolerant women; Dax and Jarxel were safe enough. As much as those two were enjoying the spectacle, they were keeping sharp eyes out for any possible threat against their leader.

Gru and Geru were talking mostly with each other, sipping ale and enjoying a hearty dinner, occasionally growing silent as a particularly lovely dancer took a turn. Atton was pleased to see that the general lack of respectability of the place didn't seem to faze anyone. There was little old school Jedi snobbery among any of them.

Stefan, he saw, had attracted the attention of a tasty little barmaid who was flirting outrageously. He split his time chatting with her as she passed by and idly gazing around the room, missing nothing. It was Stefan's sudden look of concern that made Atton look up suddenly.

Six Mandalorians had entered the cantina, obviously fresh from the docks. They'd made an effort to clean up some, he gave them credit there. But they spotted Canderous, Jarxel and Dax almost immediately and their faces grew suspicious and angry. Atton was at the other end of the table and had no opportunity to warn his friend before the newcomers were upon them.

"I never thought I'd see the day that my brethren consorted with jetii," the meanest looking of the six said by way of greeting. "Even without robes I can smell them. You ought to come with us, men, we're on our way to pledge ourselves to the Mandalore."

Canderous stood, his face set in what passed as a pleasant smile. Atton saw several patrons edge away at the look. He rolled up his sleeve with leisurely patience and smiled wider. One of the men actually looked worried. Atton stifled a laugh.

"How convenient," the Mandalore said, "You found me." Atton saw the man that had spoken widen his eyes.

Canderous shifted so his Clan tattoo was displayed, the Ordo phoenix blazing on his bicep. Jarxel and Dax had stood with their leader and pulled aside the necks of their tunics to show the tattoos emblazoned on their chests, identical to their leader's. Jarxel spoke.

"I am Jarxel Tauran, the Mandalore and his Lady's second in command. I suggest you choose your prejudices more wisely. The Mandoa are allies with the Republic now, and the Lady of the Mandoa herself is Jedi." He growled this and the six men stood straighter. They didn't quail though, and Canderous give them a look of approval.

"_She_ is the one we felt?" Mean Face asked incredulously. "We were working as mercenaries seven months ago and felt a presence like a bolt of lightning. All of us had the same vision of a beautiful warrior woman and knew her for our Lady, the true Mate of the Mandalore. We couldn't see the face of the Mandalore, though, but felt him too. And she's Jedi?"

"She's not even Mandalorian," Canderous confirmed. "And you'll show her respect or I'll kill you myself."

"We meant no offense," Mean Face said hastily. "The universe is changing, we know that. But our people are stronger now, we felt that too."

"The Mandalore and Lady have pledged their lives to the Mandoa and the Clans have disbanded and reformed under Clan Ordo," Jarxel informed him with a hard stare. "Accept this or get out. Daxon here is the Lady's Champion; if you offend her, you'll answer to him, the Mandalore, and me. Not necessarily in that order. If our Lady doesn't leave you in pieces first."

"I have spoken out of turn, Mandalore," Mean Face said. "We meant no disrespect."

"Keep it that way," Canderous said, nodding. "Have a drink on me and I'll see you on Dxun in a few days."

The tension eased and everyone went back to their drinks. Atton quirked an eyebrow at Canderous who nodded back, a grin on his face. Jarxel went to talk to the newcomers for a few minutes, then returned to the table.

"They're likely enough lads," Jarxel said cheerfully. "Just confused. They didn't want to appear weak by groveling."

"Good boys," Canderous approved. "I can't abide whiners. Have Kelborn assign them a sponsor until they learn their way around."

Jarxel nodded.

The evening would have been an unqualified success if it wasn't for the locals. Quatz had unbent so far that Atton suspected he'd had a personality transplant. He spent time with everyone, even Canderous, chatting and sounding them out about politics, the Sith situation, the upcoming mission. Atton gave him his best smile when he approached and flatly refused to discuss it.

"I'm getting married tomorrow," he pointed out. "I'd rather not think about having to leave her behind right now."

Carth and Dustil agreed, and Quatz hastily backpedaled. "I do apologize; that was insensitive of me. I can be such a single-minded bore at times."

Atton almost choked on his ale at this observation, and Carth pounded his back helpfully. "Apology accepted, Master Quatz," he managed after a moment.

Quatz serenely moved along and Bao Dur watched him meander. "He's drunk," the Zabrak said with amusement.

"You think?" Atton said wryly.

The other Jedi seemed to be having a good time. Each of them took a few minutes to get to know the grooms, and Atton was starting to think the Order really was moving into the modern age. He couldn't wait to share impressions with Dria.

Then the trouble began.

The six Mandalorians that had confronted Canderous were being hassled by a large group of locals. Atton sprang to his feet, alert for trouble, and saw Canderous roughly shoulder his way through the crowd to the table, Jarxel and Dax on his heels. Atton had started to follow, Carth, Dustil, Bao Dur and Jolee in his wake when a flash of steel caught his eye and Canderous was bleeding, a knife stuck under his bottom rib. Jarxel and Dax bellowed in rage and attempted to help their leader. The six remaining Mandalorians roared and went utterly berserk.

Fighting his way upstream, Atton got to Canderous first, shoving aside Jarxel, grabbing the knife and yanking it out before the Mandalore could realize his intent. Fiercely, he channeled healing into his friend and saw the wound close. It all had happened so fast, none of them had time to get out of the way of the suddenly raging crowd. Engulfed on all sides by gleefully swinging patrons, Atton and Canderous were buffeted back and forth, Atton nearly losing his footing. Canderous grabbed his hand and yanked him upright.

"Well shit," Atton shouted, "I can't use my 'saber; too lethal." He ducked under a fist aimed at his face and knocked the attacker flat with a brutal uppercut. He saw Carth and Dustil not far away, holding their own admirably but the odds were against them. Jarn was near them, ducking and weaving like a champ.

"Get to my men," Canderous roared over the deafening noise of the brawl. "They think I'm dead."

"Speak for yourself, Sir," Dax yelled from behind him. He was back to back with Jarxel, the two of them had been apparently been surrounded after being pushed aside by Atton. "Remind me to thank Master Atton later." He lowered his head and barreled through three men rushing at him, knocking them aside and giving himself enough room to execute a truly magnificent spinning back kick that put two of them out of the fight. Canderous and Atton knocked the third senseless with synchronized blows to the jaw. Jarxel was faring well with the four in front of him, ducking and blocking so fast no one had landed a serious blow yet. Canderous viciously slammed his fist on the top of one's head and Atton kicked the legs out from under a second. All four were out in moments.

A glance around showed their friends scattered around the room, all fighting to incapacitate, not kill. The more senior Jedi seemed to be trying to contain the crowd and prevent it from spilling into the streets.

_Good idea_, Atton thought. _Less chance of attracting notice from the authorities._

The crowd was thinning and Atton knew they would win with no serious casualties when he heard sirens close by.

"Time to get out of here!" he bellowed, looking around wildly for an exit.

But the brawl was pressing closer and suddenly the room was full of uniformed men with stun sticks and blasters. Not wanting to give the Jedi a bad name by striking one of the Queen's guards, and unwilling to abandon Canderous, who he saw shoved willy-nilly out the door, helped along by an enthusiastic stun stick wielder, Atton allowed himself to be carted away. Once in an armored covered speeder, he found Carth and Dustil had been rounded up too.

"Damn, Admiral, don't they know who you are?" Atton asked, too busy trying to assess his chances of getting them all out of this mess to panic yet. The odds didn't look good.

"Well, I tried to tell them," Carth said ruefully. "The nearest guard just sneered, 'sure you are, buddy,' and shoved me into the speeder."

"Do you think the others got away?" Dustil asked anxiously.

"I saw Canderous being prodded into a wagon," Atton reported. "I'm pretty sure Jarxel and Dax were with him. _I_ would be, if I were them. Jennet will make mincemeat out of both of them if we don't figure something out. It's a lot safer in jail."

"What about the other Jedi?" Carth asked.

"I saw Jolee in the thick of it," Dustil said promptly. "You should have seen him, Dad, he was having the time of his life. Training's going to be fun with him," he added enthusiastically.

"Focus, Son," Carth admonished, but he was smiling.

"Sorry," Dustil appeared to be thinking. "Jolee must have gotten taken too, unless he was willing to attack a royal guard or mind tricked someone. I think I saw Stefan slip out the back. Disciple looked like he wanted to come after us, but Stefan yanked his arm and when I looked again they were both gone. I don't know where any of the others were."

"Bao Dur got seriously hurt," Carth said quietly. "Someone thought a maddened Iridonian was too dangerous during a brawl, I guess, and took steps. He was taken out and I was trying to get to him. I can't heal, but I have kolto on me. They dragged him into one of the first speeders, I think. But I saw him stirring as they did; chances are he's healed himself already."

"I hope so," Atton said soberly. "I saw Quatz and Jerrel on the fringes, trying to contain the fight. I have no idea where they are now. Jarn was close to you, Carth."

"Was he? I didn't see him," Carth said, shrugging. "Windor and Timon weren't far off, and Geru and Gru were unfortunately right by the door when the authorities got there. They were shoved into a wagon right behind Bao Dur."

"You there, Jedi," a voice came out of the dim recesses of the hold and Atton peered, blinking to see who it was. Mean Face and two of his companions were on the far end of the cargo hold, staring with interest at the Jedi.

"Yeah?" Atton answered a touch belligerently. He knew these guys hadn't meant to cause trouble, but they weren't the ones that were facing postponing their wedding. Again.

_Gods, just let me get married tomorrow on schedule,_ he thought. _I'll pay any penance you want._

"You healed the Mandalore," Mean Face said with a touch of puzzlement. "Why?"

"He's my _friend_, you idiot!" Exasperated, Atton all but shouted. "But I would have healed anyone that needed it." He added in a more moderate tone, reigning in his temper with an effort.

"You seem upset that you did so," Mean Face observed.

Atton stared at him blankly. "Upset that I healed Canderous? Of course not. He's one of the best friends I have." With a small shock, Atton realized it was true.

"We're all good friends of your Mandalore," Carth said quietly. "Any one of us would help him."

"I see," the big Mandalorian looked thoughtful. "So what's the problem? We had a fight, we spend a couple of days in a cell, pay a fine, go home. No big deal."

"The problem _is_," Atton said through gritted teeth, "That we're going to _jail_ and all three of us are supposed to be getting _married tomorrow night_."

Mean Face looked taken aback at that. "That _is_ a problem," he said slowly. "It's never a good idea to mess with a woman's wedding plans." The three Mandalorians exchanged knowing looks.

"Yeah, well, thanks, Captain Obvious," Atton said scathingly.

The Mandalorian disregarded this jibe. "You saved the life of my Mandalore," Mean Face looked at Atton with a genuinely admiring and apologetic expression. "For this I – we – are grateful." The other two nodded. "We regret our situation has caused you difficulty."

"Not your fault," Atton acknowledged grudgingly, his irritation fading. "Just damned bad luck."

"I'm Trafgar Leit, and these two are Quinn Ains and Justin Horne." The redhead nodded first, followed by the brown-bearded fellow. Trafgar himself was a dirty blond monster with a shaggy beard and piercing gray eyes. He offered his hand and Atton took it in a warrior's grip.

"Jedi Knight Atton Rand," he said and reluctantly smiled.

"Carth Onasi," the admiral left out his various titles, Atton noticed. The Mandalorians looked surprised at the name.

"Admiral Carth Onasi, Hero of the Republic?" Quinn asked, raising an eyebrow.

"The same," Carth sighed. "It's a much more exciting story in the news, believe me."

"Ah, and here I mistook you for a Jedi."

"Well, I'm that, too." Carth said. "Long story."

"Dustil Onasi," the youngest Jedi introduced himself and shook hands around. "I just got made a Jedi. So did Dad."

"Leit?" Atton asked suddenly. "Do you have a brother or cousin that does tattoos?"

"I had a younger cousin that liked to draw when he was a kid," Trafgar said with surprise. "I haven't seen him since he was about eight."

"Jarxel will steer you in the right direction," Atton said. "Angus Leit is the Mandalore's official tattoo artisan. Damn fine work, too."

Trafgar looked pleased at the thought of locating family, but let the subject drop. Atton offered to heal any damage the three companions had taken. They politely declined.

The rest of the way to the jail was made mostly in silence. Upon arrival, the guards unloaded the speeders one at a time, leading the occupants into the processing area. Everyone was told to empty their pockets and leave belts in individual trays. Canderous, Jarxel, Dax and the other three Mandalorians were already in a holding cell when Atton and his group were brought in. He figured they were the last ones, as most of their party was present, sitting glumly on benches. Bao Dur looked healthy, and Atton breathed a sigh of relief. All of them gave their palm print and shuffled into their respective cells. The Mandalorians had one to themselves, the Jedi did as well. Down the hall, Atton heard the grumbling and occasional shouts of the rest of the bar's patrons that had been rounded up.

Canderous flashed him a rueful grimace as Atton passed his cell.

"Sorry, Rand," he said. "Damn bad luck."

"Not your fault," Atton said automatically.

They all looked at each other when the force shields resumed their humming. Atton looked around and counted noses.

"Anyone know where Stefan, Disciple, Jerrel and Quatz are?" he asked generally.

Except that glimpse Dustil had, which he reported to the rest of the group, no one had a clue.

"Well," Atton said after a moment, "I'm open to suggestion. Anybody have any ideas how to get the hell out of here in time to make my wedding?"

Dax spoke up. "Doesn't your arm break through shields?" he called to Bao Dur.

The Zabrak sat up and looked at him, a small patient smile on his face. "Absolutely. A prison break. That will help." He leaned back and closed his eyes again.

"Anyone know the justice process on Onderon?" Jolee asked from his corner.

"Generally, in a situation like this, the individuals charged with disturbing the peace will be released immediately if they plead guilty and pay a fine," Gru answered.

"How immediately?" Carth asked.

"Next morning, usually," Gru said.

"That's not so bad," Renault, whom Atton had heard speak maybe seven words all night, looked encouraging. "We plead guilty, pay our fines and go. It's only ten minutes or so to Dxun, we'll have plenty of time to make the wedding."

"Sure," Atton said pessimistically, "if it's as simple as that. Everyone shut up a minute, okay?"

He didn't normally need it to be quiet in order to do this, but it helped. Considering his luck tonight, he wanted as much information as he could get. He closed his eyes and searched the minds around him, skimming over the ones that were obviously ignorant of anything useful. The cells down the hall were basically full of citizens that had simply joined in the brawl, not caring how or who had started it. One man, though, had had murder on his mind and Atton saw clearly the image of the Mandalore stabbed with a dagger, and felt the satisfaction of the individual who had done it. He concentrated on this individual for a long moment, then moved on. The guards were not as helpful as he might have hoped, but he gleaned what he could.

Atton opened his eyes. "I have good news, bad news, and worse news." He looked directly at Canderous.

"What's the good news?" Canderous asked in a resigned voice.

"Trafgar and his buddies didn't kill the man that knifed you," Atton said cheerfully. He'd resigned himself to being in trouble now; might as well have fun. Baiting Canderous was a lot more fun than simply sulking in his cell.

Trafgar leaped off his bench and glared at Atton. "How is this good news?" he snarled. Atton smiled grimly.

"You won't be charged with _his_ murder," he answered bluntly. "It was a spontaneous thing, but the guy wanted to kill you specifically, Canderous. That's the bad news," he added with a falsely cheery air.

"There's lots of people that want to kill me," Canderous growled, though with no real heat. "Any idea why?"

"All I got was something about humiliating him and his friends," Atton shrugged. "And a flash of Jennet's face."

"Ah, shit," the Mandalore groaned. "That was seven or eight months ago. And she healed them, too. It wasn't the leader of that pack, I remember _his_ face. He wasn't there tonight."

Jarxel and Dax had both looked up with startled understanding and the three of them briefly explained about a fight they'd had with Jennet and the rest of the honor guard with a group of men who mistook Jennet as a captive.

"All I know is this guy remembered you and deliberately provoked the new guys to get you away from the Jedi," Atton was sure on that. "He set you up."

"Stupid asshole," Canderous grumbled.

"Proving it will be a bitch," Atton pointed out. "Unless we can get him to confess, and I seriously doubt he'll volunteer anything."

He sat abruptly on a bench between Carth and Dustil, his mind whirling.

"Damned bad luck," Canderous said, shaking his head.

"Not your fault," Atton acknowledged yet again. Gazing around at his friends, he smiled grimly. It could have been worse, he thought fatalistically. No one's dead, and as jail cells go, this wasn't bad. He'd been in enough of them to know. "But Ladria's going to kill us."

"Ladria," Carth said gloomily, "is the least of our concern. She's reasonable. Revan will go ballistic."

"Not if we figure out how to get out of here in time," Dustil said hopefully.

"It seems to me," Windor said unexpectedly, "that if the barbarian that attempted to murder the Mandalore confessed, we'll be released." He looked at Atton significantly.

Atton held the man's icy gaze, his dark eyes going cold. "I haven't done that in a long time," he said, his voice low and so utterly devoid of emotion Carth jerked slightly and felt a chill go down his spine. Rev sounded like that when forced to speak of her past. He eyed Atton warily.

"What is he talking about?" Carth asked, and glanced around the cell. Dustil had felt that coldness too, and shifted slightly away from Atton, but looked as concerned and confused as his father. The rest of the Jedi, save Jarn, were regarding Atton and Windor with expressions of understanding, but not necessarily with approval. Watching this exchange and sensing something going on he didn't understand, Canderous spoke to break the tension.

"What's the worse news?" he rumbled, and Atton broke eye contact with Windor with an almost audible snap.

"Worse news is," Atton reported, switching back to his careless good cheer, "is I caught from a guard that our fines will amount to about a thousand credits."

"That's not so bad," Geru said, brightening.

"Apiece," Atton announced, and everyone's face fell. Canderous swore loudly looked like he wanted to hit something.

"I have about four on me," he said after his temper had abated. "In my credit pouch, which they took."

"That's about what I have with me too," Atton said.

They took an accounting from everyone and found that they were about six thousand short.

"Don't trouble about us, Mandalore," Trafgar spoke up, with a wave at himself and his companions. "It was our fault you're all here. We'll join you when we're released and have worked off our fine."

"I won't leave my men behind," Canderous told him, his tone absolute. "Even if I did, I wouldn't let you pay for my mistake. You had no idea that asshole was baiting me."

"We all go, or none of us," Atton said, and everyone nodded in agreement. "If I can talk my way out, I'll cover the rest; I just need to get to my broker."

"The hell you will," Canderous growled. "This was because of me, I'll take care of it."

"Dustil and I need to get out of here as much as you," Carth added. "It's not fair to have you cover the cost."

The ensuing argument might have led to violence if they hadn't been separated by five feet and two force shields. Canderous was adamant that it was his responsibility, Atton was just as stubborn and the rest of the Jedi were protesting having anyone bear the full cost. Atton and Canderous were unwilling to leave any of their friends without funds.

"SHUT UP!" Bao Dur, unlike his usual quiet serenity, finally stopped the verbal battle with a loud roar that startled everyone to silence.

"This is not helping," he said firmly. "We need to be released. Logically, we need credits to do this. Atton and Canderous have them. So do I. The three of us will pay our fines in the morning, get the rest, and get you out. Now quit arguing and get some sleep. I won't have the General's wedding spoiled because of stupid pride."

With that, he turned his back on his cellmates and stretched out on a bench, pointedly closing his eyes and making a show of preparing to sleep.

Canderous and Atton regarded each other across the hall.

"Good plan," Atton offered, looking sheepish.

"I suppose so," Canderous allowed. "Get some rest, Rand. It'll work out."

They all made themselves as comfortable as possible and soon there was no sound but the shifting of nineteen men in close quarters snoring away. No one was bothered by lack of bunks; all of them were seasoned soldiers, accustomed to sleeping where they were.

Windor had given Atton food for thought though, and under cover of his companions' various nocturnal sounds, he mentally sought the one mind that had caused their predicament. The man was asleep; that made it all the easier. Atton's initial reluctance to use the mind skills learned from the Sith had been replaced with a calm acceptance that Windor could be right. What he saw while delving in the sleeping man's mind confirmed that this was not a nice guy. He would likely cause others damage in the near future, if the glimpses Atton was seeing were any indication. There was at least one murder to his credit, and no sign of remorse. He was on the point of implanting a suggestion that would force the man to confess his sins when he pulled back, shaking and feeling the sweat break out on his brow.

No. The bastard deserved it, sure. But Atton had sworn he wouldn't use this talent for vengeance ever again. He knew Ladria wouldn't approve either. The effort to stop so far along and knowledge of how close he'd come to it make him faintly nauseous. Breathing deeply to clear his mind of the unpleasant memories he'd witnessed, Atton set his own mind blocks and forced himself to relax and go to sleep.

* * *

The brawl was rapidly coming to a head, and Stefan was kept busy trying to defend himself without killing anyone. He heard the sirens long before they became apparent to the general populace and glanced around for an exit. Fortunately, he was near the back of the cantina, where a convenient door led to a back alley. He noted that Quatz and Jerrel had spotted it too and were swiftly making their escape. Mical was close and Stefan moved toward his nephew.

"Time to get out of here," he shouted, unaware that Atton had bellowed the same words across the room, to little effect.

Mical turned to him with a look of astonishment. "We can't leave the others!" he protested, starting to move deeper into the mass of battling bodies.

Stefan grabbed his arm. "We can't help them if we're all in jail," he hissed, pulling the younger man back with surprising strength. "Trust me, I have a plan."

Mical reluctantly followed with a swift anguished look at his friends, who were even now being rounded up by the Queen's guards. No one noticed them slipping out the back. Jerrel and Quatz were waiting a short distance away, breathing hard but otherwise unharmed.

"Where are the others?" Jerrel demanded, looking around as if fifteen men could hide effectively in a three meter wide alley.

"Rounded up by the Queen's guards," Stefan said shortly, shaking his head. "We were too spread out."

"Atton Rand seems a resourceful fellow," Quatz said with some puzzlement. "I would have thought he'd make it out."

"If I know Atton, he let himself be taken," Stefan said resignedly. "He wouldn't want to tarnish the Jedi name by striking a guard, or abandon his friends."

"Like we just did?" Mical snarled.

"Do shut up, Mical," Stefan said tiredly. "Your loyalty is admiral, but hardly practical. What good would it be if we're all in the same predicament?"

"You said you had a plan," Mical said with a touch of belligerence. "That's the only reason I followed you."

"Well, not so much as a plan as an idea," Stefan admitted. "But it's a start. Come with me."

The four of them made their way to an upscale apartment complex. To Mical's surprise, Stefan produced a passkey and led them into a small set of rooms, decorated simply but with exquisite taste.

"Who lives here?" he asked, taking in the comfortable furniture, the small but elaborate bar near the kitchen, and the few pieces of high quality artwork displayed on walls and the mantle above a holofire. He saw a collection of framed holos on a sideboard and went over to examine them. One was Jennet, laughing at whoever had taken the image, her curly hair tumbling every which way and brown eyes sparkling. There were several more of her, and a few of what must be Miranne and Drake Jax. He sucked in his breath; he'd seen Jennet's holos, of course, but was struck again by the knowledge that these were his parents. Stefan was present in some. The largest was of Jennet and Stefan, a large body of water behind them and the pink glow of early sunset streaked across the sky. Jennet was laughing out of the frame, Stefan's arm around her, both dressed in tunics and breeches, an invisible wind blowing her curls wildly. His uncle was looking at her, and the expression was so tender that Mical turned away, feeling as if he'd intruded.

"I do," Stefan answered, and Disciple nodded, unsurprised. Stefan disappeared into what Mical assumed was the bedchamber. "We need robes," he said, bringing out four sets a few minutes later. "Quatz, you and Jerrel are close enough size to me to manage. You, on the other hand," he said, cocking his head and studying his nephew with the air of an artist arranging his latest subject, "are much taller and broader. Fortunately, a friend uses this place from time to time and leaves spare clothing. These will do." He tossed the last set at Mical and ordered everyone to change.

They weren't Jedi robes, Mical saw immediately. But they were of similar design and to the uninitiated would pass. He obediently put them on over his tunic and breeches, tightening the belt and clipping his 'saber to his side.

Stefan hadn't let anyone share this particular sanctuary in a long time. It was the same apartment Jennet had lived in while they were together. After she had torn it practically to pieces, Stefan had returned a few months later, cleaned it up, and kept it. He owned it outright, and came here when the ghosts of his past haunted him too closely. Stefan knew it was illogical to maintain an expensive bit of real estate in a city that fought for every centimeter of living space, especially when he couldn't spend more than a few weeks out of a year here. But he hadn't been able to let it go. His mercenary friend stayed here more often than he did and made sure it was kept clean and comfortable. Convenient, in their current situation.

There was little hope the holos of Jennet had been missed by any of these three very observant men. Mical's parentage was general knowledge now, and Stefan saw his nephew, Quatz and Jerrel's quick minds putting the pieces together and coming to their own conclusions. He was grateful no one asked any awkward questions. He didn't really want to deal with their curiosity right now. Possibly ever. He was seriously considering selling it, anyway. It was too close to Dxun, and it didn't give him comfort anymore. Jennet didn't know he still owned it, in any case. Studying his nephew's face now, he realized that while Mical could be trusted not to tell his sister, it was long past time to let the past die. Jennet was happy, far more than he ever could have made her. That was what mattered most to Stefan, and always had.

As if sensing the need for distraction, Quatz, who was idly inspecting a painting above the mantle, spoke. "This is extraordinary work," he commented admiringly. "I don't believe I know this artist. Where did you get it?"

"It's one of mine," Stefan confessed, sizing the change of subject. Mical, he saw, had unobtrusively stood to block the bank of holos on the sideboard from view. A thoughtful gesture, if unnecessary. "It helps me meditate."

"Hiding your light under a barrel, eh?" Quatz said a shade too heartily. Stefan winced. If he needed any confirmation that Quatz and Jerrel had understood immediately the significance of the apartment, Quatz's attempt at casualness did it. He was thankful they were too polite to barge into his bedchamber to see the portrait there he'd done from memory. "It's good to have a hobby, but this is exquisite," Quatz continued, seemingly oblivious to Stefan's discomfort. "I'm amazed no one knows you paint."

"I sell them at a local gallery now and then," Stefan said, shrugging. "Most of the profits go to a children's orphanage. I don't use my real name, of course. But they've gained some small popularity."

"A philanthropist as well," Quatz said in surprise. "There's more to you, Master Stefan, than I guessed. Why haven't you ever told the council?"

"It's nothing," Stefan said, genuinely embarrassed. "A hobby only. If I kept all of my work, I wouldn't have room to move. As I said, I use it to help me meditate."

"So what's our next move?" Disciple interrupted, both to spare his uncle more discomfort and to get back to the point.

Jerrel nodded. "You obviously have something in mind, Stefan. Time to share."

"I'm well acquainted with the Onderon justice system," Stefan said briskly with a quick look of thanks at Mical. "It's far less corrupted now that the Queen has full control, but the common guardsman are notorious for accepting bribes. They also are in awe of Jedi, and know that their Queen feels indebted to the Order. They won't believe that our friends are Jedi, however, owing to the recent decimation of our ranks. They're well aware of how few are left. Despite most of our party being in possession of light sabers, they would likely dismiss this as mercenaries posing as Jedi, trying to con the locals. We weren't exactly in the sort of establishment that a large group of Jedi would gather."

The other three men nodded, agreeing with this logic. Stefan smiled grimly and continued.

"I'm certain, however, that if the four of us approach the jail in full robes and Council authority, at least Atton and the others of the Order will be released. We can insist on the Mandalorians being remanded to our custody as well. Whether they'll agree to it is uncertain." Whether he meant the authorities of the Mandalorians themselves was open to question.

"What about fines?" Jerrel asked immediately. "Or bribes, for that matter?"

"Bribes are a last resort," Stefan said firmly. "It would be difficult to smooth this over with the Queen if such action is taken. Better to pay and go as the law dictates, and this unfortunate incident will never have to be brought to her attention. Fines will be steep, however. I'd estimate at least eight hundred to a thousand credits per man."

"If they accept a draft from the Oder, that is not a problem." He looked at Stefan quizzically, who nodded. "Very well, then. We need to wait," Quatz said thoughtfully. "At least long enough to give the illusion that we were notified of the situation and came as quickly as we could. Go too soon, and someone might suspect we know more than we're telling."

"Good point," Stefan acknowledged. "Let's give it about three hours, then go. Anyone like a drink in the meantime?" he smiled charmingly, and everyone sat down to wait.

* * *

"I am Master Stefan Tai'rhi, Chairman of the Council of the Jedi Order," Stefan announced to the sleepy guard on duty at the front desk. "My associates and I are here to secure the release of our fellow Order members, and Canderous Ordo and his party."

"Hearings are in the morning," The guard said, unimpressed. So much for being in awe of Jedi. "Come back then."

Stefan's expression remained authoritatively pleasant as he leaned over the desk. "I think," he said quietly, "you need to release them _now._"

The guard's eyes glazed over and his mouth dropped open. "Yes, Sir," he said, his voice curiously flat. "But there's fines involved."

"You realize that one of your prisoners is Admiral Carth Onasi, Hero of the Republic?" Stefan said sternly. "It would be unfortunate if such blunder, however understandable, is made public. Or if it were known that so many Jedi were arrested when they were simply trying to keep the peace."

"N-no, sir, I mean, y-yes sir, that would be bad. Very bad," the guard gulped, trembling now. Stefan cursed inwardly. The poor fellow was _too_ susceptible. He carefully throttled back his influence. "I'm relieved you understand that," Stefan said with a charming smile. "There's no reason to keep a record of this, is there?"

"No, not at all," the man said automatically, stutter now gone.

"Why don't you take care of that now, and then show us to your superior officer?" Stefan suggested, his eyes never leaving the guard's face.

"Right away, Sir." He logged on to his computer, tapping away. Mical came around the desk to check his progress. Looking up at Stefan, he nodded.

Speaking to the officer in charge took very little time, and in short order, Quatz had drafted a note to cover any fines, with the secure knowledge that the incident would not be in any official record.

The drama of four Jedi in full regalia sweeping into the holding area was enough to wake most of the party. Atton and the others had only gotten an hour or so of rest when Stefan strode in, trailed by Quatz, Disciple, and Jerrel. They stared, blinking and astonished, as a guard powered down the force shields on both cells and ushered the group to the secured personal effects room, where their belongings were returned with profuse apologies. No one dared ask any questions, and Canderous kept his newest men silent with a sharp look, seeing them unwisely about to demand what the hell was going on. He had his suspicions, but wasn't going to blow anyone's cover.

Once safely away from the jail, however, the Mandalore stopped in the street and stood in front of Stefan, blocking his progress.

"What the hell was that all about?" he demanded with a glower. Stefan calmly looked up at the much taller man and smiled thinly.

"No thanks necessary," he said.

"I'm going to pay back the Order for me and my men's fines," Canderous said flatly. "That's not what I'm talking about. Where the hell were you, and how did you get us out?"

"The four of us made it out the back and used the authority of the Order to get you released early," Stefan said simply. "We made sure that none of your names would be on official record. Not good publicity, for one. I didn't think you'd want to explain to the Queen why the Mandalore was arrested for brawling in a cantina on Onderon, either. She's still wary about the Mandoa living so close, as you well know."

"I'm aware of that," Canderous snapped.

"I'm also aware that none of this was your fault," Stefan said calmly. "Something had to be done, and there's three women on Dxun that don't deserve to have to wait yet again for their wedding."

"I don't like being indebted to you," Canderous growled, oblivious to the interested audience watching the pair. Atton made as if to speak, but Carth shook his head at him. This confrontation had been coming for a while; best to let it get out. He knew Canderous well and saw the signs.

"Well," Stefan said with elaborate patience, "I could care less _what_ you feel towards me."

"We had it covered," Canderous glowered. "We didn't need your help."

"You did if you wanted it kept quiet," Stefan pointed out. "As if you cared what might happen if it came out publicly."

"I care," Canderous snarled. "But I clean up my own messes."

"And such a good job of it, too," Stefan was icily sarcastic now.

"They're not talking about the brawl anymore, are they?" Dustil murmured to his father.

"No, Son," Carth muttered back. "They never were."

Atton was torn between stopping a possibly ugly fight between two of his friends and letting an overdue clearing of the air continue. One could possibly end up getting them all thrown back in the jail they just left, while the other could cause a rift that neither of them intended. Throwing up his hands in equal parts frustration and resignation, he strode over to a nearby bench, crossed his arms, and sat. Carth and Dustil joined him. The rest of the party, including Dax and Jarxel, followed suit. The six newbie Mandalorians stood uncertainly near the Mandalore, not having a clue what was going on. Jarxel muttered a colorful oath and towed them all out of the way.

"Loyalty is one thing," he growled at the recruits, "stupidity is another. This isn't your fight."

"What the hell does that mean?" Canderous roared at Stefan.

"It means you can't control everything, and it wouldn't kill you to gracefully accept help now and then. Gods know why Jennet puts up with you," Stefan shouted back, deliberately provoking the bigger man. He knew that her name would bring everything out in the open, and he found he was relieved at the notion.

"You leave her out of this," the Mandalore's voice had dropped to a low dangerous snarl. "She has nothing to do with it."

"She has everything to do with it!" Stefan snarled back, and with a move that was too fast for anyone to follow, twisted the big man's arm violently around, wrenching it behind his back and slamming him against the wall face first. He leaned all his weight on the arm, brutally twisting the wrist, pinning Canderous and snarling into his ear. He could tell the bigger man was in considerable pain but made no sound. "I am sick to death of your judging me, being suspicious of my motives. All I ever wanted was for her to be happy. You won, you bloody idiot bastard! I would sooner cut my own throat than take her away from you."

He let up the pressure just enough to spin Canderous around and slam him back, getting one arm across his throat so quick Canderous had no time to break free. Stefan was eye to eye with him now, both of them blazing at the other with blue fire. Canderous' face was set in a snarl but he could barely breathe. Stefan knew better than to let up, though, and leaned closer.

"You listen to me," he rasped, all vestiges of the urbane charmer gone. "She loves you. _You_. Do you have any clue what that means? Do you think I'm so selfish to take that away from her? She can't breathe without you, she's the very life and soul of your people. _You_ gave that to her, not me. Never me. All I gave her was a glimpse of a life she could never have, followed by pain. And I get to live with that. I don't care, as long as she keeps looking like she does when she's with you. I'm glad I left her now, because she would never have been that with me. But I'm tired of tiptoeing around you bloody pride and pretending I like you. Hate me all you want, I could give a bloody damn. I'm done."

Canderous had stopped struggling now. "You done yet?" he wheezed, not trying to remove the arm across his windpipe.

"No. If you ever hurt her like I did, I'll kill you myself." Stefan said simply, but with utter deadly sincerity. He shoved away from the Mandalore, releasing him and the big man rubbed his neck reflexively.

He strode over to the Jedi, looked him up and down appraisingly, then clocked him with a brutal punch across the cheekbone, smiling grimly at the sound of crunching bone. He'd broken his nose, too. Blood poured down Stefan's chin, and he spun halfway around but didn't fall.

"That's for hurting Jennet," he said. "And this," he spun into a back kick that caught Stefan in the side and knocked him sideways, "is for doing this in front of my men. _Now_ we're done."

He offered his hand, and blinking, Stefan just stared at it. He hadn't tried to stem the flow of blood pouring down his face and hardly winced at his now broken ribs. Canderous noted both with an inward smile of admiration. Stefan wasn't a big man, but he was tough. "Heal yourself, Jedi," Canderous said with a grin. "That's got to hurt."

"It does," he admitted ruefully, and shook the big man's hand. "We okay?"

"Yeah." He looked at Stefan with new respect. "I wanted to fight you for her, you know. I guess I didn't realize you _were_ fighting for her all along. You just didn't want to win."

"Oh, I did want to," Stefan shrugged. "But I'm not what's best for her, that's all."

He gingerly touched his nose and with a grimace, pulled as hard as he could to set it straight, clenching his teeth against the pain. Only then did he heal himself. Canderous frowned.

"Why did you do that?" He asked curiously, waving a hand in the general direction of Stefan's face. "Won't your healing take care of it?"

"You hit like a bloody Wookie," Stefan said with a wry grimace. "If I'd healed that as was, my nose would have been literally out of joint, and I like to breathe through it occasionally."

"Ah," Canderous said with a nod. "I'm used to Jennet; she would have straightened it while it healed."

"She's exceptionally good at it," Stefan agreed. "Most of us need a little more to work with. While we're on the subject, you need any?"

The Mandalore looked at him consideringly. "I wouldn't normally, but if I come home with a sprained wrist, Jennet's gonna want to know why. Go ahead."

Stefan grinned, and took care of the damage. "I'd like to be friends, if that's okay with you."

"We can be," Canderous agreed. "Now."

"Why?" Stefan asked frankly.

"You fought for her," he said simply. "If anything ever happens to me, I know she'll be okay. You'll see to it."

"I will," Stefan promised.

"Hey guys," Atton called, and both of them turned to see the rest of the party watching with relief and amusement. "It's almost seven in the morning. Do you think we could go back to the hotel and get some sleep _sometime_ before the wedding?"


	26. I Thee Wed

Author's note: At last, the wedding! Hope you all enjoy.

I have good news and bad news. The good news is I have finally been approved to work full time. The bad news is this means less time to write and post. On the up side, I seem to be pretty prolific when I do have time and the chapters will continue to be rather lengthy. I actually stopped to post this one before it reached over thirty pages; I had intended it to go straight through the wedding night. Alas, that will have to wait until the next, which will include the honeymoons as well. I thought it might flow better that way.

I promise I will continue to post regularly, although it might be every two weeks instead of once a week. Thanks for hanging in there. Please continue your feedback, I appreciate any and all comments!

Always, LJ

* * *

"I should have eloped," I groused, pacing around the apartment. Revan and Mission were with me, cheerfully eating a second breakfast. I spun on my heel and glared at the pair of them. "_Why_ did I allow you two to talk me into this useless waiting?"

"Because you love us, Aunt Dree," Mission said sweetly, finishing her eggs with relish.

I'd already eaten. Sparingly, to be sure, but I'd managed to get a most of it down. I wasn't nervous about getting married at all. It was the sitting around, waiting for the ceremony and not being allowed to do one thing to prepare for it that was driving me to pace around Atton's apartment. That, and the fear something would go wrong. I had had a bad feeling since I had woken up that I couldn't shake.

We had all spent the night at the Mandalore's home, and Jennet, Lorna, Mira, Megari and the rest had firmly shooed the three of us out the door after feeding us and said someone would be by to pick us up later. Mira promised to come and do our hair and makeup. We were expecting her in a few hours.

"Calm down, Dree," Revan said soothingly. "I trust your instincts, but even Visas hasn't reported any upcoming disaster. Jennet said she spoke to Canderous and everything's fine."

"Something happened last night, I know it," I said irritably. "I wish I knew what it was. Are the men back yet?"

"I have no idea, but they're big boys," Annie said firmly. "They can take care of themselves, and would have let us know if they needed us. Now eat some more and quit worrying."

I sat and sipped a cup of coffee, accepting a piece of fruit from Mission. I ate it slowly, savoring the sweet tartness and breathed deeply to release tension. After a moment, I felt better.

"I'm sorry," I murmured to my fellow brides. "I don't know why I feel this way. But you're right, we would have heard something if the boys got into any trouble."

"That's the spirit," Annie said approvingly. "You just need to relax. The massage therapist will be here in a few minutes; that's just the ticket."

"I just had one yesterday," I protested.

"And you'll get one again today," Annie said firmly. "It's my treat, and it'll help, trust me."

"All right," I said, capitulating with a smile. "Why do you put up with me?"

"Because it's usually me prowling around like a caged cat, and you've never let me down yet," Annie grinned.

"True enough," I laughed.

The door buzzed, and Mission hopped up to let the massage therapist in. Swiftly setting up her portable table, she went to work on Annie first, Mission and I sipping coffee at the small dining table and chatting. She spent a good hour and a half on each of us, pounding out knots and sore muscles. Mira arrived halfway through my turn, and set to work on Annie as soon as she emerged from the shower. When I slid off the table, I was ordered to drink a large glass of water, relax for about a half hour, then take my turn in the 'fresher. I did so, watching Mira fuss over my best friend with amusement.

Soon it was my turn, and Mira again worked her magic. When she was done, I stood in the small bedchamber in front of the only full length mirror and stared in wonder. She had done a lovely job with the makeup, hardly looking like I wore any, but somehow the green of my eyes held a hint of blue, complimenting the silvery blue-gray of my gown. My hair was done in a smooth upsweep that added height, a few locks teased out in long ringlets to soften the effect. In a burst of creative genius, she had somehow pinned Atton's brooch at the crown, suggesting a tiara. I wore no other jewelry but my engagement ring, but the dress needed none. I looked taller and shapelier than I was, and for once really felt beautiful.

Annie swept in, and smiled in the mirror behind me.

"You are so lovely, Dree," she said softly. "Atton will be so proud."

I smiled at her reflection. "I can't wait to see Carth's face when he sees you," I returned the compliment. "I've never seen you look more beautiful."

She looked perfect in her gold/green gown, the skirt trailing prettily and the sleeves fluttering almost to the hem. Her hair had been done half up from her face, caught in wide ribbon of matching material at the crown to fall in a mass of curls to below her bared shoulders. I inspected her from head to toe and pronounced her perfect.

"Now…" I said consideringly, "Where is it? Ah, I know!" I plunged a hand through a slit that was invisible to the casual observer and touched her lightsaber that was strapped to her upper thigh. The fullness of the skirt and the drape of the rich fabric kept the shape of it from poking through.

"Very good," Annie laughed. "But yours isn't on your thigh, I'd bet my life of it. Or in an ankle holster, not with those shoes. So the only place is…" she slipped a hand under the drape of fabric at the small of my back and laughed. "That's incredible, you can't see a thing."

"_You_ found it," I pointed out.

"Yes, but only because I know you'd never marry without your lightsaber on your person, even without robes," she said with a knowing smile.

"Nor would you," and we grinned conspiratorially.

Mission was being painted still so we had to wait to see her in her finery. When she emerged from the bedroom we sighed in appreciation.

Her wedding clothes were much like she had worn the night before, but in a gorgeous deep teal that set off her pale blue skin. She wore a headdress of blue, silver, gold and clear crystals that allowed her Lekku to flow freely over her shoulders. The skirt skimmed her toes and was a modest sarong style that left her navel bare but hid her long legs. She looked as fresh and lovely as a newly blossomed rose and blushed at our compliments.

The door buzzed again and Jennet whirled in, chirping happily at our appearance.

"The guys sent flowers," she informed us excitedly. Kex was behind her, along with Dax, who looked none the worse for wear for whatever they'd been up to last night. I smiled brightly at him and he flushed a bit, smiled back briefly and looked away. Curious. They both carried large boxes and Jennet sported a third smaller one.

Ushered in, Jennet directed her guards to set them on the dining table. The Mandalorians then took position outside the door as Jennet bounced excitedly around the room.

"The speeder will be here in a half hour," she reported, pausing to shake a wrinkle from her skirt. She was wearing a dark blue dress I had seen once at a dinner when Carth and Canderous were hammering out details of the Mandoa involvement with the Republic. It fit only a little tight at the waist and I marveled again at how quickly she was recovering from Helen's birth.

"How is our favorite niece?" I asked to distract her.

"Wonderful," Jennet said brightly. "Lorna's with her now. I hope you don't mind that I'm bringing her to the ceremony?"

"Of course not," Annie said immediately. "Danni's coming too."

Mission had been inspecting the boxes and we all turned at her gasp. She was lifting two pretty wreaths made from pale cream and deep gold flowers with cobweb-like greenery. Her eyes were threatening to spill with tears.

"He remembered," she whispered. "Twi'leks wear ankle wreaths when they marry, and I had forgotten to order any. Oh, Annie," she said thickly. "I'm marrying the greatest guy in the _whole galaxy_!" She flung herself at her soon to be stepmother and burst into happy tears.

"I'd have to argue that one," she laughed gently. "I think I've got him. But his son is awfully close to it."

"Dry up, Mission," Mira said with teasing gruffness. "You'll ruin all my hard work."

"I'm sorry," Mission sobbed anew. "I'm just so happy!" She groped for a tissue and dabbed inexpertly at her eyes.

"Stop that," Mira ordered, taking the tissue and wiping gently. She towed Mission to a stool and repaired the damage with swift businesslike strokes of a makeup brush.

Meanwhile, Annie had opened her box and lifted a bouquet of creamy white Crysallis flowers, accented with green and gold ribbons and tiny yellow-gold rosebuds. The greens were delicate and feathery and the whole thing fell in a waterfall of fragrant blossoms.

"How lovely," I said. "How do you suppose he knew to order it with green and gold ribbons?"

"Probably the same way Atton got yours with silver and blue," Annie said with amusement, carefully lifting mine out of its box.

She was right, my bouquet was almost the same, but with silver and blue ribbons and the rosebuds in alternating pale gold and silver. I drew a finger across one; no, they were real, not silk or other artificial material. I wondered where in the universe the shop had managed to find roses that were silver.

"Mine's easy," I smiled and breathed the heady fragrance of the Crysallis flowers. "It matches my rings."

"I'll bet," Annie said with a mock suspicious look at Mira, "a little bird told him what color to get."

"Not me," Mira said promptly. "I think he just knows you well."

"You could be right," Annie said softly, her face going dreamy. "He really does."

Dax buzzed the door to announce the arrival of the speeder and we all trooped out. I wondered as we made our way to the Mandalore's estate how the guys were doing today.

* * *

"Do you think they suspect anything?" Dustil asked worriedly as he adjusted his cufflinks.

"They will if you don't shut up about it where anyone can hear you," Atton informed him, not unkindly.

They'd made it back an hour before, having gotten a surprising seven hours of sleep. It was less than an hour until the ceremony. The flowers and candles were all in place, and the grooms were almost dressed. Bao Dur, looking amazingly dapper in formal black suit and collarless soft gray shirt held closed at the neck with an onyx stud, had dressed already and was currently brushing Atton's new boots. Carth and Dustil's formal footgear were already polished and ready, waiting for their respective owners.

None of them intended to keep last night's adventure from their women for long, but they wanted nothing to spoil the ceremony and had agreed to keep mum until tomorrow. Stefan, Canderous, and the Jedi had all agreed this was a good plan. Buoyed by male conspiracy, the grooms and Bao Dur had cheerfully greeted Jennet, Mira, Visas, and the other females busily bustling about and scurried upstairs to shower and change.

"I was going to wear my dress uniform," Dustil said, tugging at his wine colored military-cut short suit jacket. His shirt was a pristine white with pearl buttons and an elaborate ascot. A slender vibrosword with a beautifully crafted basket hilt in a tooled leather sheath hung just so at his hip, a match to the one Carth carried. Neither of them had been Jedi long enough to have acquired a light saber. Snug fitting black pants ending mid calf completed his outfit. He reached for a knee high boot and started tugging it on with some difficulty. "But it didn't seem right to since I'll be leaving the service."

"The tailor did a good job," Carth assured his son, stooping to snag his shoes. "It was worth the extra to have it altered so quickly." In addition to his military dress uniforms, Carth owned a few sets of civilian formal wear, and had given the one he had packed to his son. As the two men were almost exactly the same height and build, it had needed only a little adjustment to make it a perfect fit, Dustil being slightly less broad through the chest and shoulders, and retaining some vestige of teenage slimness.

"Thanks, Dad," Dustil flashed him a smile. "I just want it to be perfect for her, you know?"

"Yeah, I do," Carth said, smiling back and swallowing his own nervousness. He'd dreamed of this day for five years, and now it was here, and he was as jumpy as he'd been on the day he'd married Morgana. He realized he'd laced his shoe wrong and patiently picked it out.

"You two keep that up and I'm going to go back to my apartment, grab Dria and make a break for Dantooine." Atton joked, shrugging into his coat and smoothing it over his shoulders. Bao Dur helpfully jumped up and tugged the back hard, settling the fabric. Atton glanced over his shoulder with a nod of thanks. Bao Dur winked and handed Atton the boot he'd been brushing, turning his attention to its mate. "Why did we ever think a triple wedding was a good idea?" He was almost dressed himself, lacking only his left boot. The charcoal coat fit closely over his torso, nipping in at the waist. It cut away in front, sweeping to the back of his knees. His royal blue collarless shirt was fastened with silver crystal studs, and at his throat was a moonstone. His 'saber was clipped to his belt.

"Because we won't have to go through this three times," Carth said promptly. "It was _your_ idea."

"It was Revan's idea," Atton shot back. "But I thought it was a good one," he admitted.

"It is," Dustil said firmly, drawing himself up and glaring at his father and honorary uncle. "This is an important day not just for us, but the Order. We're the first Jedi to marry with their approval, if you recall. And Mission deserves a real wedding. So do Annie and Aunt Dree."

The two older men and Bao Dur stared at Dustil, startled at his vehemence.

"Hey, kid, we're just joking around, you know," Atton said soothingly. "Your dad and I just spent a small fortune on flowers and candles, after all. We're on your side."

"I'm sorry," Dustil said, slumping a little. "I'm just so nervous I'm about to snap. Is this _normal_?" he beseeched his father, looking a little wild around the eyes.

"Perfectly," Carth said with authority, putting a hand comfortingly on his son's shoulder. "I was petrified the day I married your mother."

"How about today?" Dustil asked, standing straighter and smiling ruefully.

"About the same," he admitted with a chuckle. "I loved your mother with all my heart, Son, but I was even younger than you when we married. I'm older and wiser than I was then, so I have more confidence in my choices. But yeah, I'm twitchy as a sleeping kath hound."

"What about you, Uncle Atton?"

Atton finished rebuttoning his jacket and smoothed his hair. He flashed a smile at Dustil. "There's only about three things that scare me now," he said quietly. "The top of that short list is losing Dria."

The four men exchanged knowing looks and finished dressing.

* * *

Bao Dur stood, tossing the boot to Atton. "The ladies should be here any minute," he said. "I'll go escort them to their places. I'll come get you three when it's time."

They all nodded, and the Zabrak headed downstairs. He had perfect timing; the speeder pulled up the back just as he reached the family room. Presenting his arm with a flourish, he carefully helped each of the brides from their transport. They filed one by one into the Mandalore's home and into the common area. He helped Jennet and Mira as well and backed away to allow Kex and Dax take the speeder to the garage.

Entering the common room, he was surprised to find Ladria standing alone in the large room, calm and serene as always. He looked closer and saw the faint nervousness that very few could detect. Her very stillness always tipped him off. Looking around carefully, he saw no one was within earshot.

"Are you all right, Ca'shaa?" he asked softly.

She didn't jump, or show any sign of startlement at all, but he knew she had not been really aware of his presence until he spoke. Her lovely green eyes met his and she smiled.

"You still call me that?" she asked, equally soft.

He smiled back. "Of course, at least in my mind. You'll always be a dear one to me."

"I'm glad of that," she said quietly.

"Well, I call Danni that too, so don't let it go to your head," he teased, and she laughed.

"Fair enough," she twinkled her eyes at him. "And what do you call Megari?"

"Mi'shaa," Bao Dur answered promptly, his eyes going soft. "Mine."

She went very still, cocking her head at him in that familiar way, and her lips curved into a quiet smile of genuine warmth. "I see," she said, and he knew she did. "That's perfect."

"Where are the others?" the Iridonian looked around, puzzled.

"Jennet and Mira went outside to make sure everything was in place," Ladria reported. "Revan and Mission are talking to Lorna."

"And you are here alone, why?"

"I just…need a moment." She said, a slight frown marring the delicate lines of her face. "I've had this feeling all day…." She shook her head. "I just thought something happened last night, that's all. It seems I was wrong."

Bao Dur was grateful she wasn't looking at him at the moment; it gave him time to school his face. She wasn't trying to sense with the Force, either, which made him believe that whatever she thought was wrong, she didn't want to deal with it today of all days. All to the good; she didn't need to know the story yet. He smiled gently and sought to reassure her.

"Brides are always nervous," he said. "So are grooms. You ought to see the trio upstairs."

"They're okay?" she asked anxiously.

"Perfectly fine," he answered firmly.

She sighed in relief and smiled again. "I'm just being silly," she confessed.

"Never," Bao Dur said. "Just worrying about everyone else as usual. I forbid you to do that again today, General."

She looked at him, grinned unexpectedly and saluted, shifting the bouquet to her left hand. "Aye, Major."

"I haven't been a major for sixteen years," Bao Dur laughed.

"And I," she retorted, "haven't been a General for just as long. I've _told_ you to use my name."

"Funny," he smiled. "I thought I was."

She regarded him a moment, taking in his tall form. "I haven't told you how handsome you look," she said. "You always do clean up well."

"Thank you, General. May I say you are a most beautiful bride?"

"Thank you," she said, blushing faintly.

He took two steps and took her hands, careful not to crush the flowers, hardly aware of his intentions until he did so. He found himself asking, "May I have the privilege of being the first to kiss the bride?"

"I'm not married yet," she said quietly.

"Then let me be the last one." Without waiting for permission he bent and kissed her very softly, letting his lips explore hers gently. He felt her tremble slightly and for just a moment relished that he still had an effect on her. He would always love her, he knew that. But it wasn't a kiss of possession; it was one of farewell. He had a future now, and she was taking hers in both hands.

He let her go carefully, stepping away a pace and allowing her a moment to collect herself. He was suddenly afraid she might be angry, but when he looked her in the eye she was smiling, her lips quivering just a little.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"I told Atton once I would stand by him when he claimed you. I can't tell you how happy I am that day is here," Bao Dur said with complete sincerity.

"I hope," Ladria said, regaining her equilibrium, "that we will be there for you, when the day comes. Will it be soon, do you think?"

"I haven't asked her yet," he said with a chuckle. "But yes, Force willing, in time. I can't imagine my life without her, or Danni. She's…the part I was missing, but didn't know it until she was there."

"That's wonderful," she said warmly, a light of joy for him in her eyes. "You of all people deserve love."

"I could say the same for you. Now, go find your fellow brides and I'll go fetch the grooms. It's time."

"Shoo," she said, waving him off and laughing. "I'm ready now."

For a split second they stared at each other, each recalling the last time she had said those words. He could tell she hadn't meant to but didn't apologize or attempt to take them back. With a nod and smile of understanding, Bao Dur turned and went to collect his charges.

* * *

Revan, Ladria and Mission waited in the Mandalore's family room as the final preparations for their wedding were made. All three were quiet, although Mission was so excited she was practically vibrating. With a sudden flurry of noise, their female friends swept into the room, some squealing with approval at their first glimpse of the brides.

"We wanted to see you one last time before you join the ranks of old married ladies," Mira announced. "You all look fabulous."

"Thanks to you," Ladria said modestly with a sunny smile.

"All I did was enhance your natural beauty," Mira scoffed. "And find your dress, and did your hair, and…" she broke off, laughing, as Jennet elbowed her hard enough to make her sway.

"We wanted to make sure you were covered," Jennet said brightly. "You know that old superstition: something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue."

Ladria and Revan looked puzzled, but Mission suddenly looked stricken. "I didn't think of that," she said.

"No worries," Mira soothed. "You have new and blue; so does Ladria." She nodded at both of their attire. "And we will provide borrowed." With a flourish, Visas handed each of them a lace handkerchief. Mira grinned. "Now, how about old?"

"My bracelets," Mission said, brightening. "Dustil found them in an antique store. So I have old."

"I have my light saber," Ladria said, getting into the spirit of things. "I don't know if it qualifies, but I've had it since I was a Padawan."

"Good enough," Mira approved. "Revan?" she cocked an eyebrow at her.

"My gown is new, of course," she said slowly. "But I don't really follow superstition."

"Let's not tempt fate," Ladria said quietly to her best friend. "I have what you need."

She looked significantly at Jennet, who stared blankly at her for a moment, then started with understanding. "Oh! Just a minute," she said, and dashed off, returning in a few minutes with a narrow box, which she handed to Ladria. She had slipped it to Jennet as they left the apartment, murmuring to her to put it aside until she asked for it.

"Annie," Ladria said softly, "I meant to give this back to you sooner, but things have happened so fast, and there was never a really good time. But this is yours. I kept it."

Revan stared at her friend for a long moment, trying to read what was in those fathomless green depths. With trembling fingers, she opened the box and stood so still she might have become a statue.

"Oh my gods, Dree…" she looked up, tears in her eyes. "How…?"

"You stopped using it when we hit the Unknown Regions," Ladria said quietly. "It was just sitting in your cabin and I palmed it. I didn't know why; I still don't, really. But I kept it with me all the time I was in exile. I couldn't use it of course; I was Force dead. But somehow, I couldn't let it go."

Revan's hands were shaking too badly to remove it from the box, so Ladria took it from her and held up the light saber, igniting it to show the pure pale blue blade. "Old, and blue," she said quietly, switching it off and putting it in Revan's hand. She clenched her fist around it reflexively.

"I don't know how…there's nothing…." Revan choked on her tears, and Ladria smiled gently.

"Just be happy, Annie," she said. "Use it well."

She clung to her friend fiercely, and Ladria was crying now, too, slow tears that slid down her cheeks and fell, sparkling like diamonds, before being lost in the shadows at their feet.

"I love you, Dree," Revan said, pulling back and sniffing.

"I love you too Annie," Ladria smiled. "Let's get married."

"Well," Mira said wickedly, "It might be a bit hard on our boys, but if that's really what you want, I can have a shuttle ready in ten minutes. You'll be on Onderon before anyone knows you're gone."

Revan and Ladria stared at her stupidly for a moment. Then the joke hit everyone at once, and the common room rang with delighted female laughter. Tears forgotten, Revan and Ladria allowed Mira to touch up their makeup and settled in to wait.

* * *

Revan and Ladria retreated to the kitchen when Lorna signaled that Carth was approaching to walk Mission down the aisle.

"Shoo, now," the tall Mandalorian woman said with a motherly smile. "We can't let the groom see the bride."

Neither woman cared too much about that, but obediently scurried out of sight, waving at Mission as the door swung shut behind them. Lorna slipped out to take a seat with the wedding guests.

Carth walked in a moment later, oblivious to the commotion his presence had caused. He caught sight of his ward and stopped in his tracks.

"Oh, sweetheart, you look beautiful," he said warmly. He strode over and kissed her forehead.

"Thanks Daddy," she said, hugging him tightly. "This is the best day of my life."

"Mine too, baby," he murmured. "I couldn't be prouder if I was your real father."

She pulled back and glared fiercely up at him. "You _are_ my real father," she scolded. "In every way that matters. I only wouldn't let you adopt me because I knew I was going to marry Dustil. You gave me a home, and made me your daughter, saw me educated, and loved me as your own. My own parents didn't do that."

"I'm sure they did the best they could," Carth said diplomatically. "But it's been a joy to be your dad. No regrets?"

"None," Mission said firmly, knowing he was talking about Dustil. "I know what I want and where I belong."

"So determined, and so confident," Carth said admiringly. "You make me proud, sweetheart."

"So do you, Daddy," she smiled radiantly, and Carth felt a tightening in his chest. "I'm so glad you can marry Annie at last." She only called him Daddy when she was particularly emotional, and he loved hearing it.

"I guess…I do have one regret," she said, her face growing serious. "I wish Zalbaar was here."

"Me too, honey." Carth said simply. "At least you got to talk to him yesterday."

"Yeah. I guess the Wookies are doing a lot better, but they still will only let a few off-worlders visit. Dustil and I plan on stopping there for a couple of days on our honeymoon." She looked thoughtful, frowning slightly. "He's very happy for me, and says it's about time you married Revan. But, Dad…he seemed kind of sad. I feel awful for getting married when he can't be here."

"He would be the last to tell you to wait," Carth said firmly. "If he's sad, it's because he loves you and wishes his duty as Chieftain allowed him to be here. I'm certain it wasn't an easy decision to stay on Kashyyk, when his heart is with you today."

"I know you're right," Mission said wistfully. "And I understand, I do. It might be years before he feels he can leave Kashyyk even for a short trip. Even if we'd waited until next year like we'd planned, Zalbaar wouldn't have been able to make it. It's all right, and I told him that." She smiled, shaking off the melancholy, brushed imaginary dust from Carth's shoulder, and changed the subject. "You look very handsome…for an old guy," she teased.

He did. His dress uniform was perfection, his various medals arranged artfully on his chest. The white of the jacket was dazzling, the pants a sober black with a red stripe down each leg, the ceremonial sword a dashing touch. He stood tall, the picture of an officer and a gentleman.

"Thanks," Carth said dryly. "You sure that outfit is appropriate? Shows a bit more skin than a dad is comfortable with."

"It's positively frumpy compared to what Twi'leks usually wear to get married in," Mission retorted. "Don't be so fuddy-duddy." She reached out and touched his Hero of the Republic medal, which rested in a prominent spot, apart from the rest of his commendations.

"I still have mine," she said, suddenly quiet. "I was so confused why they gave a kid a medal, and scared they were going to take me away and put me in an orphanage. I loved you even then, but mostly stayed with you because I didn't want to be alone. But you and Revan were so nice to me, and treated me like your real daughter, that I started pretending you were my parents. And one day, I just realized you were." She hugged him again, careful not to wrinkle the uniform.

"Now, you be happy, okay? If this guy hurts you, I'll break his kneecaps," Carth said seriously, his chin resting on the top of her head.

"He's your son!" Mission protested, pushing him back to laugh into his eyes.

"And you're my daughter," Carth said firmly, but his mouth was twitching, trying to keep his face straight. "He can take care of himself."

"Well, so can I," Mission said stoutly. "You don't need to worry about me. Or Dustil," she added. "I'll take good care of him."

"I know you will, sweetheart," Carth said softly. "You've taken care of me all these years."

He offered his arm, and with a last kiss to her cheek, walked her down the aisle. The awe and joy on Dustil's face when he placed Mission's hand in his made his throat feel tight. He kissed his daughter's cheek again, then in a burst of emotion, hugged them both briefly before stepping away and taking his place between his children and Atton. Dustil grinned hugely at his father and Carth winked, regaining his poise. He glanced at Atton, who also winked, and Carth grinned at him. Bao Dur stood on Atton's right, tall and solemn-looking but with a merry twinkle in his bright blue eyes.

Then the music caught their attention again, and as one, Carth and Atton turned to meet their brides.

* * *

The first thing I saw when Annie and I started down the aisle were the flowers and candles. Literally thousands of blooms in various arrangements, draped over the back of the chairs, dripping off the arch in front of the dock, standing in elaborate holders at the front of the altar. There were loops of garlands marking the bridal path, and the candles! Blazing from every imaginable holder and stand, they lit up the evening with a soft brilliance that gave the golden illusion of late afternoon as the sun was setting. I gasped in wonder at the sight and knew in an instant that this was Atton's doing. My heart swelled at his thoughtfulness and desire to make this the most beautiful wedding ever seen.

Annie had sucked in her breath at the sight and we exchanged looks of pure delight before clasping hands and starting down the white silk runner to meet our grooms. I could hardly make them out through the brightness but saw Atton waiting, his face shining, a broad smile lighting his handsome face. I caught a glimpse of Carth similarly enchanted and saw Bao Dur's tall outline slightly behind Atton, half in shadow. Mission and Dustil were arm in arm and Jolee stood in front of the altar, authoritive in his dress robes. He smiled radiantly at us, teeth flashing white in the candlelight.

I stole a look at the audience and realized that every Jedi present, save the wedding party, were in their best robes, even Jennet, who must have changed. Canderous sat beside her in his dress uniform, Helen cradled in one arm, the other holding his wife's hand. The honor guard took up the entire row behind them. My former and current Padawan plus Stefan and Jerrel made up one side of the front row, Jennet and Canderous shared the other with Megari, Danni, Ju'hani, and Quatz. The Elders were behind the honor guard, and the rest of the Jedi, plus Lorna, filled the last of the seats.

Annie and I had agreed to walk down the aisle together, as neither of us had family to do the honors. She was my sister, and I hers, for all intents and purposes. As we made our stately way hand in hand down the row, each of us holding our bouquets in the opposite hand, I thought I caught a glimmer between us. I blinked hard and almost stopped walking.

"Annie," I whispered, "did you see that?"

She looked at me, her hazel eyes momentarily wide and startled. "It must have been a trick of the light," she said almost soundlessly.

It must have, I knew. He was dead, lost to darkness. It was impossible.

But for the barest moment, I thought I had seen Mak. And rather than terror, the sight gave me a sense of peace.

Whatever Annie wanted to believe, I was certain for just that second the Indomitable Trio were united again.

* * *

_It was a shadow, nothing more,_ Revan told herself as she and Dree glided down the aisle. But a tiny part of her believed it had been Mak.

It couldn't have been, of course. He was dead, lost to the Dark Side, and nothing could redeem him now. She was almost angry that thoughts of her old friend and betrayer would intrude now on this happiest of days.

Her soul, however, knew that what they had both seen was true. For a heartbeat, Mak had joined his closest friends. The _real_ Mak, the jokester and playmate, he of the quick mind and temper, confident and protective and full of fun. Whole and handsome and smiling.

But Carth was here now, waiting at the altar, and his tall handsome form eclipsed everything else. His face was shining, loving her so much it made her heart ache. She saw the glow intensify in his eyes as she drew near and took his hand, her look mirroring his, hardly believing she could claim him now. It seemed impossible that this moment was here, _really_ here, that they were pledging their lives to each other with the Order's blessing.

_Rest now, Mak, _she thought. _Go in peace. _And she turned her face to the future.

* * *

The bridal music swelled again, and Atton watched Ladria and Revan slowly walk the forty or so meters from the back door of the house. His mind as always was busily taking in every detail, wanting to store each minute to pore over later. They were both radiant brides, he saw with almost clinical interest. Revan was a good half a head taller, her blonde-brown hair a shining halo, hazel eyes fixed on Carth and a half smile gracing her lips. She was beautiful, he acknowledged, with a wholesome loveliness; clear skin, sparkling eyes, pointed chin. Her face was fuller than Ladria's, and she was tall enough to have an imposing air about her. Her dress suited her to perfection, flashing green, then gold as the candlelight reflected off the silk. She seemed a little distracted for a moment, then turned her face toward Carth and positively glowed. Atton smiled, and then his attention was all for the woman next to Revan.

Dria had such presence that it was always a bit of a shock to realize how tiny she really was. Small boned and slender, the top of her head just reached his shoulder, but she carried herself with the unconscious grace of a queen. Her rich dark auburn hair, too red to ever be mistaken for brown, seemed to absorb then throw back the glow of the candles, a fiery counterpoint to the cool blue-gray of her dress. He loved the color on her, and the deceptive simplicity of its design. The neckline hugged her shoulders, emphasizing their delicate slope, the deep vee making him ache to trace his fingers along the pearly skin. He caught the flash of the brooch he had given her. Tucked into her flaming tresses, it enhanced her natural air of regal dignity. He marveled that she had chosen him, the most unworthy of subjects.

The two women parted, and Ladria's hand was in his. She smiled up at him, her green eyes sparkling, and her hand tightened. He squeezed gently back, drawing her closer and tucking her arm through his.

_I love you, Dria, _he thought to her. He hadn't tried the simple trick of communicating mentally with her before; when he'd taken her into her memories it had been more of a kidnapping. But if ever he wanted to share his thoughts, it was now.

_And I love you, Atton, _he heard her reply. They gazed at each other a moment, nothing else existing for an eternal heartbeat of time. Then as one they turned to Jolee.

* * *

"Today is a momentous occasion," Jolee spoke, his marvelous voice at once intimate to the three couples before him, and carrying enough for the audience to hear. "We gather as friends and family to join not one, but five of our brethren in matrimony. Six people I hold dear to my heart, who have shown courage and gallantry under circumstances that would break a lesser mortal. Make no mistake, my friends, the little one who stands alone among her Jedi family is no less worthy of our admiration; for all her youth she has survived and blossomed, and fought as hard as any for the freedom we share. You see before me six of the best reasons why we fight."

He paused, glancing out into the audience, as if daring anyone to contradict him. He smiled and continued. "But today is not about politics or battle. It is about the most basic of emotion – love. It is love that brings people together, the binding Force of the universe. It is what keeps us going when all seems lost, what gives us courage when we are afraid. It is what brightens the darkness and warms us when the universe grows cold. And it is the reason one heart speaks to another, and pledges itself for eternity.

"Love is the best motive for any action; to choose to unite with another because of love is the most sacred act of all. There is a reason it is called falling in love; the purest act of trust is to make that leap of faith. It's a moment when we are our most vulnerable. And yet it takes courage beyond what we think we are capable of. Love is what brings out the best in us all.

"These three couples have made that leap, and are here to pledge themselves to their chosen mate. They are an example to us all of what the power of love can accomplish. As the Force binds them together, they will live as one with their mate, forever one heart, one soul. Each are strengthened by the other, standing together to meet whatever challenge the Force brings their way."

He shifted his gaze, and to each it seemed he looked only at them. Jolee smiled and asked, "Dustil, Carth, Atton, do you take the woman you have chosen as your lawful wife, to love, honor and cherish, and be bound by the Force for eternity?"

"I do."

"Mission, Revan, Ladria, do you take the man you have chosen as your lawful husband, to love, honor and cherish, and be bound by the Force for eternity?"

"I do."

"I ask the men to repeat after me: I take you as my wife. I vow to love and honor you, through the light and darkness. I bind myself to you eternally in the Force, mind, body, and soul."

Almost as if they had rehearsed it, Dustil, Carth and Atton repeated the vows in perfect unison.

"I now ask the women to repeat: I take you as my husband. I vow to love and honor you, through the light and darkness. I bind myself to you eternally in the Force, mind, body, and soul."

Mission, Revan and Ladria repeated the vow, each locking eyes with their groom.

"Are there rings?"

A swift shuffling. Bao Dur handed Atton his and Ladria's, while Carth and Dustil produced their sets. Jolee blessed each set with solemn dignity.

"With this ring, I seal my vow. Wear it as a symbol of my love and devotion."

The vow was echoed first by the men, then the ladies, and Jolee spoke again.

"I ask the witnesses to stand forth."

Bao Dur, Revan, Carth, Dustil and Ladria stepped forward a pace. Jolee produced a datapad and each gave their palm print; Bao Dur and Revan for Atton and Ladria, Ladria and Dustil for Carth and Revan, Carth and Revan for Mission and Dustil. They watched as Jolee swiftly punched the correct buttons to transmit the data. He looked up and smiled, giving each groom a rolled parchment hard copy of their wedding lines.

"These unions have been witnessed and documented by civil and spiritual law. What the Force has brought together, let no one break apart. By the power of the Jedi Order, I now pronounce you husband and wife. May the Force be with you, always." He paused, his eyes twinkling. "And now the best part. Grooms, you may now kiss your brides. Make me proud, boys."

The onlookers laughed, and each of the men chuckled briefly before they obeyed. It was a very long moment before Jolee cleared his throat pointedly and the couples broke apart, glowing with happiness.

"I present to this company Jedi Dustil Morgan Onasi and his wife Mission Vao Onasi, Jedi Admiral Carth Tobias Onasi and his wife, Master Revan Antoinette Onasi, and Jedi Knight John Atton Rand and his wife Master Ladria Windbreak Rand."

The cheers that rose into the night might not have been as loud as when Jennet and Canderous wed, but they were no less enthusiastic. The three newly wedded couples swept down the aisle, followed by their guests.

* * *

The receiving hall had been transformed into a fairyland of flowers and candles. The large dining table had been pushed against one wall, overflowing with delicacies, the sideboard set up as an impromptu dessert buffet. A huge wedding cake dominated one table that was festooned with garlands of flowers, mostly in various shades of white, cream, ivory and gold. One corner was dedicated to beverages, and small tables dotted the huge floor. A long rectangular table was reserved for the bridal party.

I was amazed at the lavishness of the décor and almost embarrassed by the excess, but it was so beautiful and Atton was so obviously pleased with the effect that all I could do is smile, kiss him soundly, and thank him for everything.

"I haven't even given you a wedding gift," I said guiltily, and he laughed.

"You agreed to marry me, Dria," he said, kissing me again. "I can't top that, so my poor offerings will have to do."

"You know, I think I liked it better when I thought you were broke," I teased, only half joking. "Enthusiastically generous Atton will take some getting used to."

"I like to spoil you," he shrugged. "It's fun, and I love to see that little wrinkle between your eyes when you're trying not to scold me."

I touched the spot reflexively and he laughed again. "See, it's there again. My little worrywart." He kissed that spot and turned to greet our guests.

Carth and Revan headed the receiving line, with Dustil and Mission, then Atton and me. With only thirty six guests, it didn't take long to receive everyone's congratulations and get down to the serious business of celebrating. I took special care to thank Jolee for conducting the ceremony, and he smiled as he shook Atton's hand and kissed my cheek.

"I was inspired," he said whimsically. "The five of you have done more to change the Order for the better than anyone. If you hadn't convinced the Order to abandon its usual idiocy, we would have lost a fine recruit in Dustil. It does an old man good to see you youngsters so happy."

"Thank you," I smiled. "I think."

Jolee laughed heartily and declined to elaborate, moving on to allow the next in line to exclaim over us.

The rest of the evening went smoothly, the private highlight being Revan and Carth's gift to their children: Carth's private ship, the Star Hawk. It was currently on board the Eternity, where they intended to make a stop before flying on to their as yet undisclosed honeymoon location. Dustil and Mission would be heading to Kashyyk from there. Dustil's mouth dropped open in astonishment when Carth handed him the documentation proving him and Mission as new owners of the Star.

"Dad," he protested, Mission nodding in agreement next to him, "It's too much. You shouldn't have."

"We don't really need two private cruisers," Carth assured him. "And you two could use it, between Jedi assignments and Mission's job. Rev and I have the Ebon Hawk, after all."

I had ceremoniously handed over that documentation to Annie a few days earlier. It had been hers originally, sort of; the Ebon Hawk having been stolen with Canderous' help from the Exchange boss Davik Kang, now deceased. The Hawk had never had formal documentation proving it belonged to _anyone_, actually; Kang had registered it through a false company. With Atton's help I had filed a lost title claim and made sure everything was legal before handing it all over to Annie and Carth. They had been surprised and deeply appreciative of the effort, but had protested that as the last Captain of the Hawk, it by all rights should be mine.

"Atton has the Sphinx," I had said firmly. "And the Ebon Hawk was yours, Annie, and Carth the original pilot. Didn't Canderous mention once that Davik Kang never even had a chance to fly it before you guys, ahem, _acquired_ it?"

Carth and Annie nodded in unison, eyes lively with memory.

"I never considered the Hawk mine," I assured them both. "Not even when I couldn't remember how I got it. I do thank you for the extended loan of it, however; she got us all out of more than one jam." I smiled at them and Carth looked like a kid that had been handed a particularly coveted toy. Annie hugged me briefly.

"Thanks for making it all legal," she said gratefully. "I never seemed to get around to it."

"It's the details, Annie," I said mischievously. "I always had to remind you of those."

She had laughed in agreement. Now, Dustil and Mission looked positively in raptures over their good fortune and stammered thanks to their parents.

"You sure you shouldn't just sell it, Dad?" Mission asked anxiously. "Even used Hawks get a good price."

"I don't need the credits, and you need a ship," Carth said firmly. "She's a good girl, she'll see you safe."

Atton and I would be leaving tomorrow morning in the Sphinx, to parts unknown, at least to me. Atton refused to tell me.

"It's a surprise," was all he would say when I tried to pry it out of him.

"You're full of those lately," I laughingly complained.

"I'm making up for all the ones you sprang on me over the last year," he said mischievously.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I said loftily.

He raised an eyebrow at me. "Shall I make a list? Or do you actually want to have time for a honeymoon?"

I sighed in mock exasperation and capitulated gracefully. "You win." I kissed his nose.

He leaned closer and gently nuzzled my ear. "How about we leave tonight instead of the morning?" Atton murmured. "Our first stop isn't far. We're already packed, yes?"

"We are," I confirmed. "And everything's on board. Why not?" I smiled at him, sensing his eagerness. "I wasn't planning on sleeping much anyway," I purred and had the satisfaction of seeing him shiver.

"We can get some rest on the way," he promised. "Gizmo can handle most of the flight. He's not quite as clever as T3, but he's got potential."

Atton had made a short trip to Onderon last week to find a good maintenance droid to help out on the Sphinx, as I had left T3 and HK-47 with the Ebon Hawk. I had agreed wholeheartedly with the practicality of this suggestion, and Bao Dur had helped him pick out a suitable candidate. Finding a sturdy used specimen in a local shop, the Zabrak had overhauled the unit, cleaning up fragmented programming and adding a few touches of his own. The result was a friendly and intelligent droid that was almost as proprietary of the Sphinx as T3 was of the Ebon Hawk. Atton and I were delighted with him, nicknaming it Gizmo, which it seemed to like and responded readily to the name. I had warned Atton, mostly jokingly, that under no circumstances would any sort of HK unit be a part of the Sphinx's crew. HK-47 had been enough, thank you.

The assassin droid was Revan's originally as far as anyone knew and I was relieved to dump that particular responsibility on my friend. She had not mentioned what she intended to do with it. She could melt him down into scrap metal as far as I was concerned, however occasionally amusing the acerbic bloodthirsty thing was. It had recognized her immediately the first time she had entered the Ebon Hawk with her memory restored and promptly transferred all loyalty to Revan, grandly dismissing me with a metallic sniff of disgust.

"Welcoming statement: it is good to see you intact, Master. Pointed observation: the meatbag imposter who masqueraded as my owner refused to utilize me to my full potential. Hopeful inquiry: is there someone you need me to kill?" the red eyes of the droid glowed in what Annie could swear was anticipation and excitement, she had reported when arriving on Dxun.

She had programmed HK-47 to recognize me as its master until I returned it, burying in its memory chips all traces of her ownership until that time. Concerned about my Force blindness, she had wanted me to be as protected as possible when she sent me back to the Outer Rim. The idea had occurred to her when recalling how HK-47 had suddenly 'remembered' her after regaining her memories back during the Star Forge mission. How it had ended up in the storage bay of the Ebon Hawk with key pieces of its matrix scattered throughout the galaxy is still a mystery. I had repaired it while my memories were still incomplete, not having a clue where it had come from, partly with hopes it would shed some light on my own situation when functional. Although the assassin droid occasionally irritated Revan as it did me, she mostly found it useful and amusing. I wished her joy of it.

The rest of the reception went beautifully. We three couples ceremoniously cut the enormous wedding cake, Lorna's crown jewel of the wedding supper. Standing four tiers high with a heavenly frosting of real butter cream, it was decorated with fanciful flowers, Mandoa and Twi'lek symbols of fertility and battle, and tiny candies made to resemble light sabers with 'lit' blades in every color of the rainbow. It was an eclectic mix of symbology, and done with obvious love and care. I made sure to compliment Lorna before we cut into her masterpiece. She flushed with pleasure and hugged me hard enough to constrict my breathing.

"I never imagined that the Mandoa and the Jedi would become allies," she said, letting me go with a hearty kiss to my cheek. "But you're all family now," she said, her eyes bright. "And the Lady one of you, too! I bless the day I came to Dxun, and all you've done for us."

After the lavish dinner and savory desserts, I was certain that no one would take more than a token slice of the cake. I had not reckoned on the Mandalorian appetite, however. The honor guard made short work of the giant confection. All I could do was shake my head with wonder as it rapidly disappeared.

"Where do they put it all?" Annie asked me in a low voice tinged with awe. "There's not an ounce of fat on any of them."

Jennet was passing, a large slice of her own balanced on a plate in one hand, Helen cozily nestled in the crook of her arm. At some point in the evening, she had changed back into her blue dress. She paused and looked at Revan, grinning. "Have you _seen _these guys in training?" she asked. "They burn almost as much energy as I do."

As the Lady's appetite and physical prowess was legendary, even among a race that the adult male averaged two meters tall and 100 kilos, this was quite an endorsement. Annie shook her head in mute respect. Grinning, Jennet moved on to join her husband.

During our time on Dxun, both of us had kept up a regimen of meditation, cardio-vascular exercise, and weapons training. This last was sometimes in the battle circle, more often than not against each other and with our trainees. I was pleased with Will's progress so far, and noted Carth was learning rapidly as well. Jennet had joined in the last couple of days and was regaining her skill quickly. Pregnancy had not dulled her reflexes, apparently. We had not started full Jedi training yet with any of them, but wanted to emphasize the importance of keeping in excellent shape. Jennet's eagerness to get back into top fight mode spurred not only the other new Jedi, but inspired the Mandoa, who were constantly striving to impress her. It was natural that such exertion generated larger than average appetites. And, as I discovered when the dancing started, more creative outlets for excess energy, as well.

The music for both the ceremony and the reception was provided by a small orchestra Atton and Carth had hired from the best nightclub on Onderon, one where, I might add, the entertainment kept their clothes on. I had never visited it, but heard wholehearted endorsements from Atton, Stefan, and surprisingly, Jennet.

"I lived on Onderon for a year, you know," she said with a shrug. "Stefan would take me there sometimes. The band often played for the Queen. They're terrific," she added enthusiastically. "And they play anything."

This seemed to be true. In addition to traditional wedding music of nearly any culture, they were well versed in just about every style of music you could name. Everyone danced off the cake in a colorful whirl of robes, gowns, and dress uniforms. Even Bao Dur, who was graceful and deadly in battle but less than stellar on a dance floor, managed a turn or two with each of the brides before confining his attentions to Megari and Danni. I caught a glimpse of him on the edge of the floor, shuffling his feet obligingly as Danni stood on his boots and flung their linked hands around with abandon. Megari was nearby with Mical, who was astonishingly good. Megari danced with a fluid grace that matched his steps perfectly. Most of the Jedi danced competently, some with unusually practiced skill. But it was the Mandalorians that really got the floor moving.

Big and burly, looking to a man more at home in a brawl than a formal wedding reception, they nonetheless dominated the floor with energetic enthusiasm and awe inspiring footwork. I commented on this while I danced with Canderous, who showed much of the same skill, if slightly less boundless energy.

"Dancing's like battle," he rumbled, shrugging at my surprise. "There's a rhythm to it, and it's great for bleeding off excess energy. It helps you fight, too, improves balance and teaches improvisation. All Mandalorians learn to dance along side learning to fight."

"Jedi do too," I said with a smile. "We have more in common than we knew."

Canderous grinned at me, deftly giving me a twirl and suddenly lifting me by the waist and swinging me around. I landed as soft as thistledown, and easily followed his lead through a series of complicated steps. Atton couldn't have done better.

"You're almost as tiny as Jennet," Canderous commented. "I bet I could throw you as far as her during a fight, too."

I laughingly agreed this was likely, but doubted I'd be as effective as her with this sort of maneuver.

"Maybe not," he said judiciously, "but it'd be fun to try it."

I privately hoped we were never in a position that we'd be desperate enough to attempt such a move, but smiled at his obvious delight at the thought. The song ended, and Atton strolled over to claim me, shaking Canderous' hand before sweeping me away.

"It's amazing how these guys can dance," Atton said as we moved to a more sedate pace. "It's all I can do to uphold the honor of the Jedi."

"Jealous?" I teased with a quirk of my brow.

"Nope, impressed," he said promptly. "But I'm better," he said with a touch of arrogance.

He was, so I let that pass, and simply enjoyed the rest of the evening.

* * *

Revan had danced first with Carth, of course, then Dustil, followed by Atton. She had not sat or sipped a beverage in more than an hour and had not yet repeated a partner. Bao Dur had taken a turn early on, obviously in a polite attempt to observe etiquette and sincere admiration of the brides rather than enthusiasm, or, it rapidly became obvious, any skill. He smiled ruefully at her as she sensed his discomfort and slowed her steps.

"Go ahead and lead, General Revan," he invited with a self-depreciating shrug. "It won't do any good, but it might keep your toes intact."

"I've had much worse dance partners," she assured him truthfully.

She had once danced with a Rodin that had far less self awareness of his lack of rhythm, and far more interest in attempting to peer down her dress. As he had been a good ten centimeters shorter, it had made for a very uncomfortable three minutes. Mostly for him; she had shamelessly pretended an equal lack of skill and managed to ensure he would be more concerned with nursing his bruises than molesting another female on the dance floor. Revan recounted this to the Iridonian, who laughed out loud.

"Good for you, General Revan," he approved.

"The name is Revan," she corrected, twinkling up at him. "But I doubt you'll use it, hm? Dree mentioned something about that."

"She would know," Bao Dur agreed genially.

"In any case, if you must insist, it's General Onasi now." Revan eyed him thoughtfully, and he was suddenly forcefully reminded of Ladria. They didn't look alike, and had distinctly different personalities, but nonetheless shared a certain way of looking at one penetratingly, as if reading one's secrets.

"I am grateful for your friendship with my sister," she said, astonishing him with nearly perfect Iridonian.

He stumbled, stepping on her foot heavily, but she didn't flinch, or even seem to notice any discomfort. He did detect a swift burst of energy as she sent some healing to the area, but her expression didn't change.

"Where did you learn my language?" he asked, recovering his footing. He used inflection as well, testing her.

_What do you want of me?_

She smiled, deftly resuming their pseudo dance. "Here and there. It's an amazing language, very nuanced. The most difficult I've ever encountered, in fact. I've never mastered it completely and fear it's beyond my skill. I mean no insult in my pitiful attempts."

_She is my dearest friend, and I sense you love her as I do. Nothing more._

His eyes narrowed at her overly casual tone, but he kept his face serene. "Even the strictest of my people would find no fault," he said generously. "The only adult human I have met that speaks it better is Megari. She learned very young. Danni is even better, actually, but even she had to unlearn some errors in pronunciation."

_I do, and always will. But my priority is my family._

"Megari is a beautiful woman, and Danni is enchanting," Revan said, smiling brightly. "You are very lucky. I know Ladria is happy for you."

_I understand, and hope we can be friends._

"She is a thoughtful and generous friend." He said simply. "Megari loves her."

_There is no conflict in my affections._

"Yes," Revan said quietly. "I can see that. I am so glad that my sister has such a loyal and loving family." She inclined her head, indicating the various friends around the room. "I am humbled by their acceptance of me."

_I hope one day to earn it in my own right._

"She is beloved by us all," Bao Dur's voice was gentle. "Whom she loves matters in our eyes."

_You have our respect and affection as her sister. We already see you as family. Give it time._

"To me as well," Revan said, switching back to Galactic Basic. "Thank you for the dance," she added as the last notes of the song fell into silence.

"Such as it was," Bao Dur grinned. "It was a pleasure," he said sincerely.

"Mine, too," she said warmly, and turned to her next partner.

It was another half hour before she was allowed to slip away and sample some punch. It was a refreshing concoction of various fruits, heavily spiked with what she suspected was Juma Juice. Tasty, but very intoxicating. Considering the alcoholic tolerance of the group, however, it was practically mother's milk. Needing something a little better able to slake a real thirst, she found a glass and poured some water from an iced pitcher and drank it down.

Carth found her there, sipping her second glassful, looking almost as in need of refreshment as she.

"Here," she said, pouring another and handing it to him. "Drink up; I think round two will be starting in a minute."

He laughed and in short order drained the glass, holding it out for more. She obliged.

"Atton mentioned that he and Ladria will be leaving tonight," Carth said when he had gulped half the glass down and throttled back to mere sips.

Revan thought about suggesting the same, but discarded the idea. Dustil and Mission had been given a room in the same apartments that the Jedi were currently housed in, and she and Carth were planning on staying on board the Ebon Hawk. If they left tonight, both sets of newlyweds would have to wait until they got to the Eternity to really have privacy. Revan doubted Carth would be comfortable having his wedding night on the same relatively small ship as his children, however adult everyone was about it. Moreover, Will Cantor was accompanying the group, so he could tie up the loose ends of his military career before going on to Coruscant and Jedi training. The fleet had agreed to transport him there in two weeks.

"I wish we could just go straight to a week alone on a beach somewhere," Carth said apologetically. "But the Star Hawk is on the Eternity, and I really ought to clear things up with Command. They've been notified and approve of my new status as Jedi, but I do need to prepare my XO for some time away and give him instructions about the upcoming mission."

"I understand," Revan assured him, smiling at his earnestness. "You don't have to justify anything with me."

"I know I don't," he said softly. "But I want you to understand that you're my priority."

He reached out and grasped her waist, drawing her closer and resting his forehead against hers. "I want nothing more than to spend a week with you, somewhere there's sun and water and no one else around," he said softly. "Preferably naked."

She giggled and tilted her head to kiss him briefly but thoroughly. "I like that idea."

"Two days," he promised. "Then off to paradise."

"And where, exactly, is that?" she inquired. He hadn't been any more forthcoming about his plans than Atton was being with Ladria.

"Anywhere you are," Carth smiled widely. "Mrs. Onasi."

"That's Master Onasi, to you," she corrected, and they laughed together. Arm in arm, they went back out to the dance floor.

* * *

It was an hour short of midnight when the newlyweds said goodnight in a hail of flower petals tossed by their guests. Dustil and Mission hugged us all before they were escorted with much joking and laughter by half the Order towards the apartment building. Carth, Annie, Atton and I were allowed to walk to the hangars unhindered by company. The four of us halted in front of the middle one, where the Ebon Hawk was currently residing. The hangar closest to the mansion housed the Phoenix, of course, and the Sphinx was occupying the third. I knew Atton usually parked at the public dock near his apartment, and I wondered just when he'd decided to leave tonight instead of tomorrow morning. I doubted it was as spontaneous as he'd pretended.

We had all been chatting in general terms about the next two week's plans, and suddenly, the complete reality of the day hit me all at once. I was married. _Married._ A state I had never thought I would find myself in, or dared hoped the Order would allow. Moreover, Annie was too. I saw similar thoughts in her eyes as we fell silent and the enormity of the day caught up with all of us. In a burst of incredulous, supremely joyous emotion I hugged Annie hugely. She clung back fiercely, not needing to speak. I wanted to sing, or dance, or just shout out loud, but settled for embracing my best friend and then her husband, as Annie hugged Atton. I saw the pleased look on his face as they broke apart and knew that they had come to be friends. A warm glow spread through me, and I caught Carth's eye as he grinned at the pair. He was like a brother to me now, and I hugged that feeling to me happily.

"I love you guys," I said simply. "We'll see you on Coruscant in two weeks."

"Safe journey," Carth said, and they waved over their shoulders as they entered the hanger hand in hand.


	27. The Honeymooners

The Ebon Hawk was almost too quiet as Carth and Revan boarded. HK-47 had been ordered into the storage unit and shut down, and T3 was quietly humming in the common room. They greeted the little droid cordially and he answered with a friendly beep. The newlyweds headed to their private cabin, the happiness and stresses of the day running like a low electric current through their linked hands.

Revan understood Dree's sudden emotional outpouring that had washed over her like warm, sweet-scented water. She could tell Atton had felt it too, and even Carth, so recently opened to the Force, had caught a glimmer. Revan could hardly believe she was finally married to Carth. Years of waiting and worry and fear of never seeing him again disappeared to be replaced with the euphoric feeling of coming home after a dangerous extended journey. Which, she thought, pretty much summed up her situation. Her hand tightened reflexively around his and he squeezed gently back, looking at her quizzically.

She looked at him, tracing the lines of his face with her eyes. Beyond the wings of silver at his temples and the smile lines around his mouth and eyes being cut just the slightest bit deeper, he had changed very little during her time away. She knew that face better than her own, better than Dree's. It had kept her alive, kept her focused and had given her a reason to succeed in her mission. Duty and the desire to stop the Sith from destroying more lives, coupled with crushing guilt over her part in the Sith rising in the first place were strong motivators, and what had sent her back into the Unknown Regions. That, and her desire to find Dree. She had been the most qualified, the best prepared, and the most responsible; to go or not was never a question. What had kept her from giving up was Carth. He had gotten her home.

She'd spent countless hours on the frequent nights she couldn't sleep with his image behind her closed eyelids, mentally analyzing every feature, every expression. It had been the one time of day she'd allow herself to do that, and even then she had been very careful to have mental patter constantly on the surface, to foil any Dark Jedi who might be attempting to pry into her thoughts. It had become such a habit to lock him carefully away and remind herself _not_ to think of him when the slightest stray thought or slipped mental block could get her killed that now that she was free to think of him whenever she wished, it was almost intoxicating. Like a drug, he ran through her mind constantly, fizzing through her mental channels, a natural buzz.

_I'm high on my husband, _she thought whimsically, and realized that she hadn't answered his questioning look.

"It's just…" Revan paused, searching for words. He waited patiently, a half smile on his lips. It was almost exactly the same quirk of the mouth she used when particularly pleased about something. She reached out and traced the smile, and he kissed her fingertips. "You're real," she said rather idiotically.

He theatrically patted himself here and there with his free hand, then pinched himself on the arm, making a small mock sound of pain. "Yep. I'm real all right," he agreed, his eyes teasing her. He touched her shoulder, hip, and finally her face, running his forefinger along the full curve of her bottom lip. She kissed it, then grasped his hand and placed it against her cheek, rubbing the palm like a cat. He smiled. "You're real too," he murmured.

She closed her eyes and nodded, still holding his hand pressed to her face. "It's just…" she began again, but he stopped her by the simple act of kissing her senseless.

Heat ran from her mouth to the soles of her feet, a glow like brandy warming the blood after coming in from the cold. He kissed her gently, almost tentatively, with such tenderness and desire it made her giddy. His arm stole around her waist and she moved closer, feeling it tighten and hold her steady. His medals were hard and cold and digging into the softness of her cleavage, but she hardly felt them, much less care, and she reached up with both arms to wind them around his neck.

They hadn't yet entered the cabin, and he backed up slowly, not breaking contact, feeling along the wall until the door mechanism was under his hand. He pressed it, scooped up his wife and carried her into the cabin, his mouth not leaving hers for a moment. He sat on the edge of the bed, Revan across his lap in a billowing cloud of gold-green silk. She sighed a little into his mouth and moved even closer, transferring her kisses to his chin, cheekbones, along his jaw, down the column of his throat. The standing collar of his uniform prevented much exploration and she growled a little in frustration, settling on teasing his ear with her tongue and teeth. That made _him_ growl, and he could feel her smile against his earlobe.

He pulled back a little, gently tugging at her hair so she would look at him. She did, her eyes glowing with green and gold lights. He studied her for a moment, much like she had done with him, letting his eyes follow the lines of her heart-shaped face, the high cheekbones, pointed chin, the light sprinkling of freckles across her small straight nose. She had a beauty mark at the right corner of her mouth, not large or very dark, just one of the thousands of tiny details that made her unique. He'd seen this face in his dreams for five years, and countless times in his waking hours had conjured it up like a magician's illusion, trying to recall every mole, every pore. The reality of her now was almost overwhelming.

"You're here," he said softly, his expression exactly what hers had been a few minutes ago. "I'm awake, it's not a dream. We're married."

"Yes," she said simply, amused now that it wasn't _her_ stumbling over inarticulate emotion. "We are. And I'm here."

"And you're mine," he murmured, kissing her nose. The light of possession and desire made his eyes almost steel gray, gold lights glinting in the dimness of the cabin.

"I always was," she said a little breathlessly. "It's just now you can keep me."

He laughed a little at that, pulling her closer in a warm hug, his heart thumping away against hers. They didn't speak for a minute, just breathed. He shifted again and set her just far enough back to see her face.

"Do you realize," he said huskily, the thought just now occurring to him, "that the first time we made love was in this very cabin?"

She stared at him, startled. Of course it was; it had been right after they'd destroyed the Star Forge. But she hadn't made the connection that they were spending their wedding night here as well. She smiled slowly.

"I hadn't thought of that," she admitted. "How appropriate."

"I was scared out of my mind that night," Carth reflected. "I was afraid once we started, I'd never be able to let you go. And I couldn't. I knew I loved you before the Leviathan, I was just too much of a coward to tell you. But that first night with you, holding you and touching every part of you and being inside you – that was the end of me. Nothing was ever the same again, and I couldn't imagine how I'd lived without you."

She smiled, glowing at his words. "I knew I loved you when you were wounded on Kashyyk. You remember?" He nodded. "I wanted you a long time before that, but I didn't realize how I really felt until then. We were fighting our way out of Zaalbar's village, and those horrid spider things were everywhere, and Exchange personnel shooting at us from every corner. And I saw you take a hit to the chest. I was so _angry_ with you," she said with quiet fierceness. "I thought, don't you _dare_ die on me now, I just figured out I love you, dammit! I bolted over to you and found it wasn't that serious, healed you quick while you kept shooting over my head. But when we got to the Hawk, I couldn't say it." She looked at him regretfully. "I should have."

"You weren't ready," he said, shrugging. "Neither was I. Rushing it would have been bad."

"I know." She paused and snuggled against him, resting her head on his shoulder. "That first time, though…I know what you mean. Cryssana died that night," she said quietly. "You loved me despite who I was, and gave me the courage to take my name back. I never answered to the name Cryssana again." She pulled back and looked at him, unable to help running a finger over his face. "It was so incredibly tender and wonderful and oh my gods, so _hot_…" she grinned, and he smiled back. "You got me addicted to you," she confessed. "You have no idea how often I just want to drag you off to have my wicked way."

"When did that stop?" he asked seriously, but she saw the twinkle in his eye.

"It never did," she said, her cat smile in place. She slowly drew her hand down his chest, fingertips seeking the buttons.

"Lady, I wanted you from that first minute we were crammed in the escape pod. I thought I'd gone insane. We were running for our lives, trying to get off a ship that was about to be blown out of the sky, everyone dead, the mission in pieces at our feet, and all I could think about was how good you smelled and how soft you were and where I could put my hands that wouldn't piss you off. I was wondering just how hard you would hit me when you figured out what I was thinking." He grinned at her and she laughed.

"I was confused and scared and couldn't remember much about myself and you made me feel safe," she admitted. "I wasn't really thinking sex then, but I knew I didn't want to be far from where you were. When we spent so much time alone on Taris, I had a hard time keeping my hands to myself. And I berated myself for it, for not focusing sufficiently on the mission. I wanted you so badly I had to pull it back and shut it down for a while."

"So much time wasted," Carth said regretfully. "We were so foolish."

"No," Revan said firmly. "We were right. We knew it was real, even then, even when we didn't realize what we really felt. We needed to approach it with respect, because when I finally got you, I was going to keep you. Forever."

"Forever," Carth repeated softly. "That's just not long enough. But it will have to do."

He kissed her then, slow and deliberate. She shivered as the heat, momentarily banked, ignited again, sending a flame of desire shooting down her body. His mouth didn't just kiss hers, it possessed it completely, strong and sure and making her moan. He nibbled at the corners, and his tongue traced the outline of her lips before plunging in and exploring every crevice, teasing her tongue and sucking it into his mouth. She moaned again, fumbling with the buttons of his jacket and slipping her hands under it to tug at the tail of his shirt. Managing to free it from the waistband of his pants, she explored his bare skin, impatiently tugging his undershirt out of the way as well. She felt the muscles of his shoulders bunch as his hands moved to shift her a little on his lap.

His mouth left hers and she whimpered a little in protest, then gasped as he kissed along her jaw and toyed with her ear. Burning little nibbling kisses were placed all along the graceful line of her neck, and her head fell back, hair spilling over the arm supporting her. He shifted and bent lower, his tongue and lips driving her crazy. His nose nuzzled at the point her cleavage disappeared into the bodice of her dress, and he pressed soft kisses along the neckline. Revan closed her eyes and plunged her fingers into his hair.

His left hand stroked slowly up her torso, small teasing circles that made her shiver, finding its way up to cup one breast. The corset-like structure of the bodice was stiff and unyielding under his fingers.

"What is this made of, flexisteel?" he asked a little impatiently.

She giggled a little and tried to sit up, intending to unfasten the back. He kept her still by tightening his arm cradling her shoulders and pushing gently with one large hand against the center of her chest. He expertly slipped it under the edge of the bodice and with a small twist of the wrist her breasts sprang free of their confinement. With a grin of satisfaction, he bent his head and proceeded to drive her insane. When she couldn't stand one more second and was reduced to incoherent moans, he let her sit up and carefully stood her between his knees. They were trembling slightly but held, and his hands encircled her waist for a bare moment before sliding up to tug at the laces marching up her spine, pausing for a second to shrug out of his jacket.

Once loosened, a gentle pull on her sleeves caused the whole dress to collapse around her, the material puffing about and deflating to puddle at her feet. His eyes slowly raked up and down her nearly nude body, his admiration evident. Standing, he plucked her from the petals of her wedding gown, her shoes dropping off to stand absurdly in the middle, and gently set her on the bed. Snagging his jacket, he hung it over the back of a nearby chair before carefully retrieving her dress from the floor, shaking it briefly out and draping it on top of the uniform coat.

"It's a beautiful dress," he said, turning to her and smiling. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you how lovely you are in it."

She'd quickly unstrapped her lightsaber during these maneuvers and smiled at him as she stowed it in the nightstand.

"Thank you," she murmured. "Come here."

He obliged, and having reversed roles, she unbuckled his sword belt, setting it down in its sheath on the desk. His shirt buttoned up the left side, the cuffs folded back and fastened with gold cufflinks, the collar held with a matching stud. She removed all three, setting each piece on the nightstand, and slowly unbuttoned the shirt, kissing her way up his torso. He smelled of the smoke from the reception candles, aftershave and cologne, just enough to make her lean closer and inhale deeply. She'd been bunching his undershirt up as she progressed and rubbed her cheek against the softness. He reached down to move her hands away and swiftly shed both articles of clothing before cradling her face in both hands and kissing her so gently she wanted to weep. But the gentleness quickly grew demanding and eager and his hands were in her hair, tugging the cloth band out and letting the long strands sift through his fingers. She yanked at his belt and soon they were on the bed, no barrier between them, hands and mouths everywhere, losing themselves in touch and scent and skin.

She could barely tell where she ended and he began; they moved as one, matching rhythm, breath, and heartbeat. She could almost feel her own body through the touch of his hands and mouth and when he finally came home, the pleasurable shock of connection was equal parts possession and possess_ing_. It was an incredibly intimate feeling, and it suddenly occurred to her that he was Jedi now. He had not opened fully to the Force yet, but the door was ajar, and it made their lovemaking even more intense than before.

With a burst of inspiration, she opened her mind to his, taking his face between her hands and wordlessly willing him to see. He looked confused for a moment, his hazel eyes burning with desire and heat, not comprehending what she wanted. Then their eyes locked, and he seemed to dive into hers, suddenly focused and aware. And then he saw…everything. She felt him make connection with the Force, with her, and the intensity increased. Every nerve ending in their bodies seemed as if they had awakened from a deep sleep, and everything was brighter, stronger, somehow more real. For a bright moment of reality, they were literally the center of the universe. And then the stars shattered around them.

When they became aware again, Carth was heavy on top of her, breathing hard and trembling. She stroked his back and murmured soothing nothings, gradually calming him until he lifted his head to look at her.

"Is it always like that?" he asked, eyes wide with wonder, and perhaps a touch of fear.

"No," she said softly. "It's never been so…intense for me."

"I could feel…everything. And see it, smell it, almost touch it." He spoke almost as if he was unaware of her presence, but never looked away from her face. "It was…incredible. Humbling. And wonderful."

"And frightening?" she asked quietly.

"Yes," he said low. "That, too. But it was okay. I knew that everything was…as it should be. Does that make sense?"

"Oh, yes," she said gravely. "More than you know. Or I do, for that matter," she added with a gentle smile.

He rolled away and stood, taking her hand and helping her off the bed so they could crawl under the covers. Gathering her close, he didn't speak again for a long time and Revan felt herself start to drift into sleep. Just as she was about to slip away, his voice woke her.

"Did you know that some ancient cultures used sex as a way to touch the gods?" he asked quietly, his breath warm against her ear. "They thought the union of a man and a woman was a divine state, and that during orgasm they became part of the universe."

She rolled over and touched his cheek, smiling. "I'd heard that, yes. They called it God; the Jedi call it the Force. What do you think?"

He stared at her a moment, stroking her hair with a small contented smile on his face.

"I think they were on to something," he said, kissing her cheek and lightly nipping her ear. His hand ran slowly over the curve of her hip and pulled her closer. "You certainly make me feel like a god. Or maybe," he nuzzled her breasts, enjoying the tiny sounds of pleasure he invoked. "I just like an excuse to worship your body."

"Do you need one?" she teased, kneading his scalp and sucking in her breath when he bit down gently.

"Not usually," he said, his voice muffled. He looked up, a wicked smile splitting his face. "You're my wife and Jedi master," he pointed out. "Isn't it your duty to see to my spiritual enlightenment?"

"Of course," she agreed. "I'll leave the choice to you. Would you rather meditate, or…?" she slipped a hand under the covers and stroked gently, making him groan.

After a minute, he took her hand away and rolled, trapping her wrists over her head with his full weight pinning her to the mattress. "Or," he said. "Definitely or." He kissed her deeply, deliberately rubbing every inch against her softness and feeling her skin quiver. "Come on Rev," he whispered. "Make me see God."

* * *

We boarded the Sphinx hand in hand, Gizmo greeting us at the ramp. Atton closed the hutch and had a rapid hushed conversation with the droid as I made my way toward the common area. He joined me a moment later, smiling and kissing my cheek.

"Stay here, all right?" he asked. "I'll be back when we're in flight. Giz will take over from there."

I agreed with a nod and sat, waiting patiently until he came out of the cockpit.

"You're certainly going to great lengths to surprise me," I commented.

He shrugged, taking my hand and leading me to the captain's cabin. "It's fun," he said easily. "I just want it to be special, that's all."

"Today has been nothing but special," I said truthfully. "We got married, you might remember," I teased.

"Yes, that," he agreed affably. "Almost slipped my mind."

I elbowed him lightly as we went into our cabin. "You really ought to learn better retention," I scolded.

"Actually," he said, suddenly serious, "I'm having a little trouble actually believing it." His dark eyes fixed on my face, warm and holding more than a touch of wonder. "My wife," he said quietly. "It really happened." He slipped the parchment Jolee had given him out of an inner pocket and unrolled it. He whistled softly.

"What?" I asked, taking it from him. I read it, smiling as I saw the proof of our marriage in black and white before me, but nothing out of the ordinary.

"I wanted this so much it's just amazing it finally happened, that's all," Atton said quietly. "I'll never understand why you said yes."

"Pity," I grinned.

"Makes sense," he agreed, laughing.

I stood on tiptoe and kissed him, slipping my arms around his neck. "I said yes," I said, smiling up at him, "because I trust your instincts. And because I loved you from the first time you told me I was an object of your hallucination."

"Well," he sighed heavily, "It's confirmed. You're even crazier than me."

"Possibly," I nodded solemnly. "I hear voices in my head, too."

He laughed out loud, and I fought to keep my face straight. I love to hear him really laugh. "If that's your definition," he chuckled, "the whole Order is nuts. I love you, Dria."

"I love you too."

He bent his head and kissed me, sweet and warm. I melted against him, meeting him kiss for kiss. I could feel him all around me, his love and strength infusing into my bones. I felt bereft when he pulled away.

"Dria," he said softly, "I want you so much it hurts. But…would you be very angry if we wait until we get there? It's important to me."

"Of course I won't be angry," I said quietly. "I've waited for you my whole life," I kissed his nose, his cheek, the line of his jaw. "I can wait a few hours."

"Keep kissing me and I won't be able to wait," he chuckled ruefully. "Come here."

He took my hand, led me to the bed and made a comfortable nest of the pillows. He lay back, drawing me down next to him, and tucked me close to my side, pulling my head down to lay on his chest.

"Sleep now, sweetheart," he whispered into my hair. "Giz will wake us when we're near."

We drifted off in our wedding finery, to the sound of our heartbeats mingling in the darkness.

The klaxon announcing our arrival woke us both and I snapped upright, painfully hitting my head against Atton's chin.

"Ouch," I groaned, rubbing my temple.

"You okay?" Atton, touched the spot and I felt a flicker of warmth as he gave me a bit of healing, soothing the pain away. He repeated the gesture to his chin. "You have a hard head," he observed.

"Are we there?" I asked, standing and shaking out my skirt. It hadn't wrinkled as badly as I feared it might, I saw with some relief. Atton caught my glance and smiled.

"Go run the shower for five minutes," he ordered. "Freshen up in the steam and it will look good as new."

I smiled and did as he suggested, touching up my makeup and hair. He did the same when I exited and emerged looking almost as fresh as he had standing at the altar. I smiled and smoothed his hair back where it had fallen over his forehead. He'd left it loose, brushing it back to almost touch his shoulders. It gave him a rakish, almost dangerous air.

"Wait in the common room," he said, kissing me briefly and grabbing his bag out of the closet. "I just have to dock the ship."

I nodded, picked up my own satchel and followed him out of the cabin. Fifteen minutes later, he was escorting me through a private docking bay attached to what seemed to be a large hotel. It seemed familiar, but I couldn't place it. The bay was closed, the durasteel doors blocking any chance of glimpsing a view that might give me a clue where we were. We were met by a porter who took our luggage and escorted us through a maze of corridors. I was starting to get an idea why everything seemed so familiar and looked at Atton quizzically.

"Are we on Nar Shadaa?" I asked suspiciously. He just shrugged.

As far as honeymoon spots went, this wouldn't be my first choice, but I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. The porter stopped and I began to understand when I saw the number on the door. Then it opened, the porter placed our bags just inside, slipped Atton the passkey and discretely withdrew. I stood frozen in the doorway, in awe of my husband's ingenuity and utter romanticism.

"Do you like it?" Atton asked anxiously, pulling me into the room and shutting the door behind us. "I was afraid it would be too much."

I stared at him. "How could I not like it?" I asked in honest wonder. "It's beautiful."

Dozens of candles adorned the room, already lit and filling the space with a romantic warm glow. Hundreds of flowers of every imaginable color filled vases and baskets and formed garlands over the window and headboard. The bedclothes were pulled back with rose petals scattered over the sheets, and a basket on the nightstand held a bucket of chilled wine, cheese, and bread.

I stared dumfounded around the room, my heart overflowing with tenderness. Atton had planned every detail with exquisite care with the aim of making it a perfect wedding night. I had no idea what to say.

"It looks like I felt that night," Atton said softly, kissing my temple. "Like a wedding night." He turned me to face him, holding my hands and looking earnestly down into my face. "I wanted the first time I made love to you as my wife to be where I first told you I loved you. The same room that we first made love."

I looked into his handsome, shining face, tears starting to trail down my cheeks. "You win," I said thickly. "If ever there was a competition of the most romantic husband in the universe, you win. No contest." And I flung myself into his arms, sobbing.

"You weren't supposed to cry," he said, half amused, half offended.

"Women do that when they're happy," I sniffed.

"You don't. Usually," he said, his shoulders losing their tenseness. He produced a handkerchief from his pocket and gently wiped away my tears. "I know it's too much, but I couldn't help it," he offered. "I wanted it perfect."

"It is," I assured him. "I don't know why I'm crying."

"Is it so hard to love me?" he teased.

"No," I said, sniffing again. "It's the easiest thing in the world."

"Well, that's good, then," he said, and kissed me. I leaned into him, loving the feel of his tall strong body against mine. His hands were at my waist, holding me steady and almost, but not quite, off the ground. When he pulled away and set me down I felt almost abandoned.

"Come here," he took my hand and lead me to a dressing table, pulling out the low backed chair and making me sit. He went over to the door, grabbed both our bags and rummaged in mine, extracting my hairbrush. I watched, bemused.

"What are you doing?" I asked curiously.

"Helping you relax," he said, smiling at me over my shoulder in the huge mirror attached to the table.

"Not exactly the state I was aiming for," I pointed out, smiling at him seductively.

He stood absolutely still for just a moment, eyes locked with mine in the reflection, and smiled slowly.

"You have no idea how sexy that is," he said, leaning over and kissing my ear. "Don't ever smile like that at anyone else, okay?"

"I have no intention of doing so," I said with some asperity. "I'm not normally a flirt."

"Unlike your ne'er-do-well husband," Atton teased. "I never thought you would deliberately encourage anyone," he assured me, removing the gorgeous brooch from my hair and deftly pulling the pins out. "You aren't the casually flirtatious kind."

He gently unwound my hair from its twist and spread it evenly down my back. The brush began to carefully remove tangles and soften whatever substance Mira had applied to keep it tidy. Once free of impediment, he began a slow rhythmic stroking that was at once soothing and inexplicably seductive. Annie used to brush my hair when I had the occasional headache, but this was nothing like that. I unconsciously tilted my head back a little, leaning into the pressure. When he stopped uncounted minutes later, my hair was floating down my back in heavy waves and I was purring.

"What kind am I?" I asked dreamily, my eyes half closed.

"Mine," he said simply. "My kind."

He took my hands and pulled me to my feet, drawing me close and bent his head to kiss me with every bit of passion and sexual seduction at his command, making my knees go instantly weak. My arms slipped up his chest to twine around his neck, and his hands roamed over my back. His mouth was hot and demanding and my lips parted as the kiss deepened. I'd never known a tongue could be so entirely erotic, and his explored my mouth with equal parts coaxing sensuality and frank possession. I responded eagerly, wanting more.

My hands slipped down to his waist, and I leaned back just enough to unbutton his jacket. He shrugged out of it, draping it over the dressing table chair. I pulled reluctantly away from his mouth to eye the studs on his shirt doubtfully. I'd had no experience unfastening men's dress shirts but soon discovered they were not very difficult. Atton stood patiently as I teased the silver jewels out of the button holes and removed the moonstone at his throat. I set the studs and cufflinks on the dressing table and reflected that I rather liked the sight of my husband a little rumpled, his formal shirt hanging loose. I stood on tiptoe to kiss him again, slipping my hands under his undershirt to caress his skin. It was he that backed away this time, looking me up and down with his eyes full of the light of desire.

"I love that dress," he said a little breathlessly. "You look like a queen, regal and confident. You have no idea how much that turns me on."

"I might," I answered with a slow cat's smile of my own and a pointed glance.

He chuckled, a warm throaty sound that made my toes tingle. He drew me close again, resting his cheek against my hair. "What I love most about you is your passion," he said, running his big hands slowly up and down my back. "You're so calm and serene, in control and decisive, and you have this spirit that won't give up. You don't do anything halfway, no matter if it's battle or healing or love. Your passion seeps into everything. You're a fierce little thing, strong and brave and capable, but you rarely lose your temper or your focus. And when you love, you give everything you are."

"You make me sound so perfect," I muttered, embarrassed at his intensity. "I'm not, you know. I make mistakes like anyone. Sometimes really big ones. Don't make me more than I am."

"I don't, Dria," he said, pulling back and looking me in the eye. "I know your faults. You're stubborn, and don't always ask for help when you need it. You take too much responsibility for situations that aren't solely of you own making. You try to hard to save the universe, and get frustrated when you can't. And you have an unfortunate tendency to either trust too much or not enough, and keep people you love at a distance." He kissed my nose. "And you have really bad taste in men," he added with a teasing grin. "With one possible exception."

I smiled back. "I married you," I pointed out.

"Proving my point," he said promptly. "_Really_ bad taste. Since I benefit by this, I'll overlook it."

I laughed. "Do you know what I love most about you?" I asked, smiling into his eyes.

"I'm betting you're about to tell me," he grinned.

I nudged him playfully in the ribs. "Smartass," I said fondly. "It's your strength, and persistence. You never give up when you want something, and you admit when you're wrong. And when you care about someone, you'll go to any lengths to help them or see them safe, if you can. But you don't smother them; you let them be themselves."

"I've never seen any use in judging anyone," he said, looking away. "It's not like I have much to stand on there."

"That's where you're wrong," I said, taking his chin and making him look at me. "You made a choice to change, and believe others can, too. You're an example, not a warning. You hung in there when I kept you at arm's length, and didn't push until I really needed it. You notice everything, and make people comfortable. Even Canderous likes you."

"Maybe," he allowed. "I'm still working on all that."

"Take your time," I smiled. "I love you, Atton. I don't care what you were."

"I love you too, Dria," he kissed me swiftly on the mouth, eyes, forehead, jaw. "Gods, you are so lovely. I can't get enough of you."

"I could say the same about you," I said with a gasp as his tongue traced the whorl of my ear.

He pulled me even closer so I was tight against him and could feel every line of his body. "Feel me, Dria," he said huskily. "Feel what you do to me."

He was hard and strong against me, and the evidence of his desire was obvious. I snuggled closer, deliberately rubbing against him and smiling at his faint groan. His hand tugged at my hair to tilt my head up and his mouth swooped down to possess mine in a fierce demanding kiss that stole my breath away. His tongue plunged hotly past my lips, stroking and teasing and exploring with a single minded intensity. When my own responded as demanding and eager as his, he sucked on it until I moaned. Meanwhile, his long clever fingers were unbuttoning the tiny fastenings along my spine, freeing them one by one. On hand buried itself in my hair, holding me still against the assault on my mouth. The other slipped inside my dress to caress the warm skin of my back, moving in slow circles to my waist and lower to squeeze my bottom. He released my head and grabbed me with both hands, yanking me up to fit me against him.

"I want you," his voice was hoarse with longing. "I need you. You make me crazy. Feel how hard you make me."

"Yes," I gasped. "Oh gods, Atton, I need you so much."

"Soon," he promised, grinding against me briefly and setting me down. He tugged at my dress, pulling the bodice down and nuzzled at the cleft between my breasts. He kissed and licked between them, deliberately avoiding where I wanted his mouth most. When he finally took one nipple between his lips I moaned in helpless desire. He moved back and forth between my breasts, making me pant and shiver, one hand in his hair, the other clinging to his shoulder, barely able to stand.

He pulled at the fabric around my hips until it dropped to the floor, pooling in a dull glow of blue-gray silk. I heard the faint clunk of my lightsaber as it hit the carpet. Standing in nothing but silk stockings, shoes and a small scrap that passed as panties, I shivered as the air, warmed by candlelight, caressed my bare skin. Atton looked at me a moment, his eyes almost black with need.

"So beautiful," he said with a touch of wonder, tracing the lines of my breasts and belly with a gentle finger. He reached out and encircled my waist with his hands. "So small. So delicate." He lifted me easily from the puddle of fabric, set me down briefly to pick up the abandoned dress and lay it over the seat of the dressing table chair. My lightsaber joined the glittering pile of his shirt studs.

He picked me up again and carried me to the bed, pulling the covers back before laying me on it. "Your skin is like cream," he whispered, kissing my lips, down my jaw, letting the tip of his tongue follow the line down my neck. "It tastes like vanilla and honey." He nibbled at my collarbone, nuzzled my breasts, and moved lower to tease my navel. I lay back, quivering from his attentions, and felt him carefully remove my shoes and stockings.

"Come here," I breathed, holding my arms out to him.

The mattress dipped with his weight and I felt him shift as he deftly kicked his boots off before scooting us both to lie against the pillows. He pulled me on top of him and his belt buckle poked into the soft skin of my abdomen. I straddled him, rubbing against the cloth of his trousers, feeling him hard and ready and I smiled wickedly. "You want me?" I asked, moving my hips and slipping my hands under his shirt. His skin was taut and soft, the light sprinkling of hair crisp and curling under my fingers. I lightly ran my nails down his chest and stomach, teasing his navel with one finger.

"Gods, yes," he groaned, his hands at my waist.

I leaned over and kissed him slowly, gently biting his lower lip. I pulled away enough to allow him to half sit up and helped him remove his shirt and undershirt, tossing them aside. Then I wiggled lower, tugging at his belt, making short work of removing every last vestige of clothing. Then I sat up again, nothing between us but a thin scrap of material. With slow deliberate movements I drove him to the edge of madness, reveling in my power over him. I nibbled and licked my way down his torso, my hair fanning in a soft cloud over his chest.

I spent the next quarter hour or so teasing him with teeth and tongue, going slow and carefully, not missing an inch of skin. Twice he tried to pull me back up, but I eluded his hands. When I finally used my mouth to great effect on the most sensitive and eager part of him, his moans rang through the room. I smiled to myself and continued to push him ever closer to ecstasy.

"Stop, Dria," he begged through gritted teeth. "I can't hold out much longer."

"So don't," I said, flashing him a cat's grin, and continued my assault.

His hands gripped my hair tightly and I felt him go over the edge, gasping and shouting my name. Only then would I slide up to join him on the pillows, cuddling close. He put his arms around me and buried his face in my hair.

"That," he panted, trying to get his breathing under control, "was not what I planned."

I smiled. "It's your wedding night too," I pointed out sweetly. "Did you like it?"

"Stupid question," he said with a snort. "You're very talented," he said, kissing my temple. "And you know I love it. I just wanted to pleasure you first, that's all."

"You did," I laughed. "And it's not like the night is over, yes?"

"Not by a long shot," he grinned, caressing my shoulder and running his hand down my arm. He took my hand and kissed it. "Well, technically," he said with a glance at the clock, "it's morning."

He kissed me gently, slowly bringing me back to full arousal, his hands stroking my skin. Shifting so he lay full length over my body, he began a leisurely journey, nipping and teasing and caressing my breasts, my navel, my hip, and down one leg. He paused at my foot, tracing his tongue along the arch and suggestively pushing it between each toe. Repeating this on my other foot, he then moved up that leg, kissed across to my navel and then his dark head rose and he swiftly removed the last barrier between us, snapping the delicate strings holding it in place. Then I drowned in the sensations his mouth created, moaning in my throat and clutching at his head. I rose higher and felt his mind opening, adding the intimacy and intensity, until I couldn't tell where his thoughts ended and mine began. If you could call them thoughts.

Incoherent whimpers escaped my lips, until I was begging him to stop, it was too much, I needed him _now._ His face pulled away, looked up at me and grinned, then he bent to his task again. I was shuddering now, squirming under his hands, and I felt myself slip ever closer to the edge of insanity. Ruthlessly, he dragged me over and threw me off that cliff, and I helplessly fell beyond desire into pure sensation, with a burst of ecstasy so strong I thought I had exploded. Just as I caught my breath and started to be aware of myself again, he slid up my body and plunged home.

This new shock screamed along my nerve endings, so pleasurable it was almost pain. With sure strokes he brought me to a peak again and again, and when I couldn't stand another minute, slowed gradually to a rhythm of sweet, rolling desire.

"Open your eyes, sweetheart," I heard, and wasn't sure if it was aloud or in my head. I did, and his dark eyes were fixed on my face, watching with possessive intensity. They were almost black and I could just barely see the outline of his pupils, wide with lust just barely in control. I could feel the waves of his need around me, matching my own. I reached another peak, gentler this time but no less intense and saw the satisfaction in those brown depths.

He shifted, pulling away and I sighed with a feeling of loss. But he rolled on his side, pulling me back against him spoon fashion, and eased into me again, his hands cupping my breasts and breath hot against my neck. Words of desire and love whispered in my ear, incomprehensible, but my body responded and moved with him. His mouth nipped at my neck and I turned to kiss him over my shoulder.

The morning stretched into hours of pleasure and exploration, punctuated with pauses to eat, shower, or simply hold each other until finally, utterly spent, we slipped into dreams. As I bonelessly surrendered to exhaustion, I could still hear him in my mind, and knew he could hear me too.

_I will serve thee and comfort thee, and follow thee until the end of my days._

I recognized the poetry, but couldn't place the author. With the last of my mental coherency, I finished the line.

_As you are mine, I am yours, and we travel the path to eternity._

I felt his sleepy smile, and safe in my husband's arms, slept.

* * *

Carth and Will were swept up into a whirlwind of official duty almost immediately upon boarding the Eternity. Dustil and Mission made their farewells and took off for Kashyyk within an hour, leaving Revan to putter around Carth's quarters, alone for the first time in weeks. She explored the three room suite thoroughly, admiring the décor. She had learned through casual conversations that Mission had mostly been responsible for choosing colors and furniture, bringing over a few pieces from his residence on Telos. Revan recognized the desk, a heavy antique monster that had been in his office, now residing in a corner marked as work space by bookcases and two file cabinets, plus a weapons locker. Most documentation was done electronically, of course, but Revan knew from her Republic days that occasionally, a commander needed a secure location for physical items.

She was pleased to see he had kept his habit of owning real paper and leather books. She scanned the titles, smiling at the balance between antique books on military strategy, philosophy, and a healthy amount of fiction. There was a small section of poetry as well, and she recalled how he would sometimes read them on quiet evenings together, encouraging an interest in it herself. It hadn't taken with her the way he and Dree enjoyed it, but she did love languages and appreciated the beauty of well chosen words.

The common area was a large open concept, a small kitchen in one corner, the work station in another, a dining table, sideboard and small bar between in front of the enormous window. The view of the stars was breathtaking, and she stared for a good ten minutes, meditating. It was a holowindow, and could be adjusted to display different scenes from locations throughout the galaxy, but like Carth, she preferred the natural beauty of space. The sitting area consisted of two large couches and two comfortable armchairs, interspersed with small tables, each with a lamp. These were grouped in front of a holofire, which was flanked by floor to ceiling shelving containing more books, objects d'art, and personal holos of Mission, Dustil, and Revan herself, framed with various materials ranging from burnished metals, highly polished woods, and glass. She recognized a few other friends as well, and one of the entire Star Forge mission crew, taken at one of the banquets they had attended.

She took this one down from its shelf, smiling a bit. Canderous, Carth, Zalbaar, and Jolee had been in the back row with Revan, Mission, Ju'hani, and Bastila standing in front. Canderous wasn't frowning, but he looked very uncomfortable. Jolee had refused to rejoin the Order and was in a sedate formal suit, smiling but not looking any more relaxed. Carth, of course, was in his uniform, a hand on Revan's shoulder. She, Bastila, and Ju'hani were in dress robes, all looking rather seriously out of the frame. Mission was smiling brightly, the only one who looked excited and at ease, wearing a pretty dress and looking very young. She was standing close by Revan, Carth's other hand on her shoulder, Revan holding her hand. Revan touched the image with a tender finger, then looked at Bastila, her face growing somber.

She hadn't thought of her old friend much in the last few weeks. It was still a bit of a shock to realize she was not only dead, but lost to the dark side. When she had learned the full story of Bastila's death, Revan had understood and approved of Jennet's choice of ending the woman's life rather than risk her escape. But looking at the holo now, she simply felt sad. Such a waste, and she hadn't seen it until too late. She wished she had had a chance to bring her back, to prevent such devastation to the Order. With a pang of regret, she set the holo back in its place.

Restless and growing bored, she decided to locate the gym and work off some energy. Leaving a note for her husband, she grabbed some workout gear and left the admiral's quarters. She had studied the schematics of the ship and knew the location of most of the public areas. With only one backtrack, she found the gym and swiftly changed in the women's locker area. She received a few curious looks but no one seemed surprised at a new face. With over 4,000 troops on board, it was common to not know everyone.

After stretching and warming up, she put herself through a moderately strenuous workout, which included exercises in flexibility, agility, and strength. She was so focused that she was unaware of the attention she was garnering until she broke off to cool down. Several soldiers had stopped their own workouts to stare with interest.

"New to the ship?" one asked with a friendly smile.

Revan nodded, smiling back. "You could say that. I'm…a guest of Admiral Onasi."

"Ah," he nodded with understanding. "Jedi?"

"Why do you ask?" Revan asked curiously.

"Well, you just did a workout that puts most of us to shame," he grinned. "And you're a little bit of a thing. I can lift more, but not much. And I've never seen anyone move like you do that wasn't Jedi."

Rev grinned and nodded modestly. "You made me. Yes, I'm Jedi."

"Wait," a woman who was doing chin ups dropped to the floor, wiping her face with the towel draped around her neck. "There was a bulletin an hour ago inviting all off duty personnel to a reception for the admiral and his new wife tonight." She looked at Revan thoughtfully. "Know anything about that?"

"No," Revan said truthfully, hiding her surprise.

She groaned inwardly; she should have expected this. Carth was probably trying to comm her now. She would bet her last credit he hadn't planned it and was merely gracefully giving in to his XO's suggestion. She was glad she'd brought both a set of dress robes, courtesy of Dree and hasty alterations, her wedding dress, and a few other items of civilian evening wear in anticipation of the honeymoon. She had acquired them when shopping for her wedding attire.

"Have you met his wife?" another soldier asked eagerly. "Is she nice?"

"Yes," Revan said, not sure what to say. "I like her, anyway. We're pretty close," she confessed, spurred on by the little devil that Dree pointed out always got her into trouble.

"That's great," the first man said, honestly pleased. "He's the best commander I've ever had. I'm really glad for him; he deserves it."

"You just want him to get laid, Rami," a guy called from across the room. "Maybe then he won't ride your ass so hard."

"Screw you, Jarkins," Rami answered good-naturedly. "The Admiral's a stand-up guy, he just doesn't want me screwing up again. I haven't had an infraction in months."

"It's not easy always following the rules," Revan grinned at Rami. "I'm not so great at that myself."

"But you're _Jedi_," Rami said with surprise. "Aren't you guys all about rules?"

"Well, some of us are," she said with a shrug. "We're just people, you know."

"Whatever you say," Rami said doubtfully. "So what's she like, huh? Pretty? Smart?"

"Well…" Revan wasn't sure if she should come clean and cursed the fact that Dree was right; her mouth _did_ get her in trouble. Making a quick decision, she squared her shoulders and held out her hand. "I'm sorry, I haven't introduced myself. I'm Revan Onasi."

Rami had taken her hand automatically in a firm grip but froze at the name. "Onasi?" he asked blankly.

"Afraid so," she said apologetically. "I can assure you I'll…what was that your friend said? …make sure he gets laid enough to keep him from riding your ass."

"Good luck with that if I fuck up again," Rami said ruefully, then blushed. "Oh…sorry, ma'am. Uh…don't mind Jenkins, okay? He doesn't mean anything by it."

Revan smiled, waving it off. "No offense taken," she assured him. "Or you, Jenkins," she called over her shoulder.

"He sort of booked outta here," Rami snickered. "Serves him right for being rude in front of a Jedi, even if he didn't know you were the commander's wife." He stared at her a minute, and Revan was acutely aware of the interested scrutiny of everyone in the room. "Are you _really_ Admiral Onasi's wife?" Rami blurted.

"Yes, we married yesterday," Revan confirmed.

"But you're Jedi," he said incredulously.

"That, too," she agreed.

"Jedi can't marry, can they?" one of the woman asked, puzzled.

"They can now," Revan said easily. "The Order has changed a lot of its laws."

"Well _damn_," said another voice. "The Admiral went and married a Jedi. I'd heard rumors that he was…" the voice trailed off and Revan turned to look at who had spoken.

"You said _Revan _Onasi," he said, staring at her with his eyes wide. "_The_ Revan? Hero of the Republic?"

"What rumors?" Revan asked pleasantly. He seemed disinclined to elaborate but she gave him a penetrating stare and he shuffled his feet uncomfortably.

"It's no offense to you, ma'am," he mumbled. "I mean, we've all heard the stories and the Star Forge mission is something we learn about in basic. Are you really her?"

"Yes," she said, giving him a hard stare. "You didn't answer my question."

"It's just…well, you know how rumors go in the military." He said apologetically. "We heard that Admiral Onasi was waiting for Revan to come back, and that's why he never married again."

Revan smiled gently. "It's true," she said quietly. "And I'm back."

Rami spoke behind her and she turned to meet his eyes. "It's an honor to meet you, Master Revan," he said formally. "Congratulations on your marriage. The Admiral's a good man."

"Thank you," she said warmly. "He is, isn't he? I'm very lucky."

"I'd say he's lucky too," Rami said generously.

"Thanks," Revan said, touched.

She found herself surrounded by a couple of dozen soldiers, all offering congratulations and asking questions. She answered what she could honestly, warmed by their obvious admiration of their commander. It was clear that Carth was well liked by his crew, and that to a man would follow him anywhere. There was a shout of "Admiral on deck!" and everyone snapped to attention. Revan looked up to see Carth striding in, Will Cantor by his side.

"As you were," Carth said with a wave, and everyone relaxed. "There you are," he addressed Revan with a smile. "Inciting mutiny in my crew?"

"Just working out," Revan said, shrugging. "Mutiny's after dinner."

"Thanks for the warning," he grinned and kissed her, to the intense furtive interest of the now elaborately casually milling audience. He looked around and said resignedly, "you all have met my wife, I take it?"

"Yes Sir," Rami offered. "She was just telling us about it."

"Hope to see you at the reception tonight, Rami," Carth said with a nod. "Staying out of trouble?"

"Absolutely Sir," Rami said with a salute.

"Good to hear," Carth smiled and returned it. "Keep it that way." He turned to Revan. "Sorry about the fuss, but my XO suggested a reception and the crew should be able to pay their respects. I got your note when I went to my quarters after I couldn't contact you by comm. Hope you don't mind."

"Of course not," Revan said cheerfully. "I'm looking forward to meeting your crew."

The reception was huge, taking place in the observation deck/officer's lounge. Upon reflection, Revan had chosen to wear her dress robes, underlining both the changes in the Order and the fact that she was an important leader in her own right. She wasn't competing with her husband, but thought it would be best to establish herself as more than simply the Admiral's wife immediately. She would likely be spending a good deal of time on board not only as Carth's wife, but his Jedi Master, and liaison between the Order and Republic. With the Order so diminished, everyone would be taking several roles; might as well make hers clear right away.

They chose to announce Carth's acceptance to the Order during the reception, and Will's separation from service to train as a Jedi. This brought on a storm of surprised comments and speculation, but when given what explanation they could, the crew seemed honestly pleased with the idea as a whole. As Will had pointed out, Carth was an ideal candidate to bridge the gap between the Order and the military. From there, Jedi acceptance would trickle down to the masses.

To her gratification, she was treated very well by the ship's personnel. Most were a bit awed by her legendary status, which embarrassed her, though she was careful not to show it. Some, like Rami, were surprised at first but upon speaking to her seemed to decide she was more or less in the same category as Carth; an ordinary person that had made good, an object of admiration and respect. No one mentioned her role in the Jedi Civil War. For that she was grateful. She was acutely aware of Carth's position as commander and took care not to overshadow him to the crew. She knew he didn't care, but having been Supreme Commander of the Republic Forces, she well understood chain of command and the importance of maintaining it.

"They love you," Carth said admiringly when they were finally alone in his cabin. "You've really won them over."

"No," she said, shrugging. "They love _you._ It's no surprise to them that you married me; they figure it's your due. You have a very loyal crew, Handsome."

"They're good men," he said fondly. "I got lucky with this command."

"You underestimate yourself," Revan said sternly. "Colonel Braddox told me what a mess this flagship was under the last commander. Within two months of taking over, the ship was running smoothly and has been given almost every important mission since. At least half of the crew were already on board at that time, too. It's not the men, although I agree they're good. It's the leadership." She went over to him and slipped her arms around his waist. "Gods, I'm tired."

"You can fight all day and hardly break a sweat," Carth chuckled. "But a reception tires you out?"

"Diplomacy isn't my strong point," she murmured into his chest. "Smiling all night at people I don't know is exhausting. And I don't care for being scrutinized like a bug under a microscope. They were nice about it, though, so I can cope." She smiled up at him and he kissed her briefly.

"You had enough practice at that after the Star Forge mission," Carth pointed out. "I know you don't like it, but you do it well. I'm proud of you."

"Thanks," Revan said wryly. "I don't know how you and Ladria do it, honestly. Neither of you seem tired after things like this."

"Oh, I am, and Ladria is worse than me," he said cheerfully. "But they're my crew; it's expected, and I know them. It's kind of fun, really. Ladria's the sort that just flows into any situation she's presented with, but she's not quite as comfortable in crowds as I am."

"You've gotten to know her well," Revan noted. "You haven't spent all that much time with her, either. How do you do it?" She, like most Jedi, could learn a lot about a person through trained observation and connection to the Force. Carth seemed to do the same thing without it. She wondered how much more effective he will be when he'd completed his training.

"I watch, and listen," Carth shrugged. "And I already love her. She's like a sister now. I spent a couple of weeks on Dxun negotiating with the Mandoa and found that Ladria was a very intuitive and charismatic leader in her quiet way. We talked some about you, and her devotion to you impressed me. And when she brought you back, her first concern was you, then me. Her own feelings were a distant third. She was willing to jeopardize her relationship with Atton to see you safe; that told me a lot."

"She shouldn't have done that," Revan said regretfully. "I'm not worth her happiness."

"She thinks so," Carth said gently. "And Atton agreed. It's worked out, sweetheart, don't beat yourself up over it."

"You're right," Revan said, smiling again. "I'm just tired, that's all."

She disengaged from her husband and changed into a comfortable pair of night clothes belonging to Carth, throwing a robe and slippers on. Carth had just hung up his uniform when she asked "Tea?"

"Love some," he agreed, and found his spare robe, Revan having commandeered his other one.

She busied herself in the kitchen, emerging with two mugs. They curled up in front of the holofire, lounging on one of the couches and watching the pseudo flames.

"You know," Revan said thoughtfully, "We've been married twenty eight hours now."

"Ready to kill me yet?" Carth asked teasingly.

"Don't even joke about that, please," Revan said seriously. "The thought of losing you terrifies me."

"Hey," Carth said, setting his mug down and taking hers away, "nothing will get between us now, Rev. Nothing." He held her close and kissed her temple. "The Force wouldn't allow us to marry, just to part us. If I believe anything, it's that."

"You're right," she said, relaxing. "It's just…we have this mission coming up, and you won't be with me. I hate that."

"Me too," Carth said soberly. "But it's the best way to accomplish it. You're strong, Rev. You'll come home."

"Yes," she said, snuggling close. "You're right, I know. So…what did you guys do the night before the wedding?" she asked, wanting to change the subject and grabbing the first thought that came to mind. To her surprise, she felt him tense up, and looked up sharply. "What?" she asked suspiciously.

"Um…we went to a strip club," he said. "It was amusing watching the Jedi there," he offered.

"Uh huh," Revan looked at him narrowly. "You know I expected that, especially with Canderous as your host. What aren't you telling me?" she demanded.

"We kind of got arrested," Carth confessed.

"You _what_?!" she sat bolt upright.

"It wasn't our fault," Carth said hastily, his hands palm up in supplication. "Some locals started harassing a group of Mandalorians and knifed Canderous when he tried to intervene. It led to a free-for-all, and we all were trying to contain the situation, and most of us got rounded up by the Queen's guards."

"Define 'most of us'," Revan said with some asperity.

"Stefan, Disciple, Quatz and Jerrel got away," Carth said sheepishly. "Everyone else was taken in."

Revan sighed. "All right, tell me the whole story." She sat back expectantly.

Carth started at the beginning, relaying his impressions of everyone's reaction to the strip club, the encounter with the Mandalorians when they first came in, the brawl. His description of the near riot between Atton and Canderous over who was going to bail them all out, and Bao Dur's emphatic reaction made her laugh. When he got to the point of Stefan somehow managing their release, she looked thoughtful.

"He's more powerful than I gave him credit for," she said, a half smile on her face. "He must have mind tricked all of the guards. I wonder how they accounted for the fines if you all weren't supposed to have been there?"

"He said he convinced them to keep our names out of the records, in exchange for quietly paying the fines. I understand they logged it as a minor infraction concerning miscommunication about exit visas," Carth said with a chuckle. "The fellow that started it all is still in custody, unfortunately not for attempted murder, since Canderous technically wasn't there. But he's facing some expensive penalties for disturbing the peace, and damage to the cantina. Force help him if he gets out and the Mandalorians find him," Carth said with feeling.

"I'd give him a month," Revan said rather caustically. "No Mandalorian will stand for the Mandalore being assaulted."

"I agree," Carth shrugged. "I only wish he could be tried for that crime; according to Atton the guy's a real piece of work."

Revan nodded. "I'd trust him on that," she said. "But there's something else you're not telling me."

Carth looked at her, weighing the privacy of his friends against the shrewdness of his wife. Well, Stefan is in the Order, after all, and the outcome was positive. It's her business, sort of. Making up his mind, he told her about the fight between Stefan and Canderous and what was said, to the best of his recall. To his surprise, she laughed.

"It's about time those two got things sorted out," she said with a chuckle. "Jennet's been worried; anyone with eyes could see the tension. She told me the whole story about her and Stefan a while back, and how Canderous was trying hard not to let it bother him. That was wise of Stefan to finally realize that it would take a good old-fashioned brawl to settle it."

"I was impressed," Carth admitted. "He's a good head shorter and thirty kilos or so less mass than Canderous, but he slammed him against that wall like it was nothing."

"Canderous wasn't expecting it. Stefan's first choice isn't usually physical confrontation," Revan pointed out. "But he's Jedi, you know; we learn to maximize leverage and draw on the Force to aid us in battle. Plus, we study in depth about anatomy, pressure points, nerve endings and the like. Twisting his arm like that causes intense pain and momentary paralysis. The split second of helplessness was enough to maneuver him into a contained situation. Mandoa are good, and very strong, even Jedi can lose easily against them if not prepared, or unable to use their abilities. In a straight fight, I'd bet on the Mandalorian. But against the Force, they don't really stand a chance. Stefan, though, was careful _not_ to use Force ability; it sounds like it was simple leverage and advantage of surprise. Smart," she approved. "It would have just pissed Canderous off if he'd done it any other way."

"True," Carth agreed. "It certainly seems they've worked out their differences, though."

"It ended well," Revan said with a nod. "All of it. And no harm was done. Quite an adventure you had," she teased. "Some bachelor party."

"What did you do at your party?" Carth asked curiously.

"Girl stuff," Revan said sweetly. "Pampering, snacks, that sort of thing. And we went to a strip club," she added cheerfully.

"And how did that go over with the Jedi?" Carth asked with a chuckle.

"Really well, actually," Revan smiled. "Sharika is sponsoring the club. Oh, and Xarga was one of the main attractions."

"Xarga is a stripper?" Carth almost choked on his tea.

"Yep. Good at it, too. Apparently, it's an accepted practice among the Mandoa," Revan said cheerfully. "Jennet didn't know, though. You should have seen her face."

"I'll bet," Carth laughed. "Sounds like you ladies had a good time."

"We did," she agreed. "And _we_ didn't get arrested."

"Sensible of you," her husband said dryly. "I wonder how Mission and Ladria are going to take the news?"

"Mission will probably be really mad, then laugh," Revan predicted. "Dree will likely just sigh and tell Atton to be more careful in the future." She sat up suddenly, frowning. "You know, she had some idea about it on the morning of the wedding," she said slowly. "She was a bundle of nerves and insisted on knowing where you guys were and if you were okay. I wonder why she got a glimmer when even Jennet didn't. She and Canderous communicate mentally on a much different level than Jedi."

"Got me," Carth said, shrugging. "I told you she's intuitive."

"I've always known that," Revan said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "And she's connected with Atton, far more than just the Force bond. He must have been very worried about the whole thing for him not to be able to block her entirely."

"He was," Carth confirmed. "We all were, of course, but Atton almost took it personally, like he was at fault. He wasn't our host, and it was a Mandoa thing that started it. But he was the one that was scheming the most to get us all out of there. Canderous blamed himself, of course, though no one else did, not even Atton."

"Atton has a horror of jails," Revan said softly. "He spent enough time in cells, and almost died in one. Plus, he was the one out of all of us the most concerned about the details of the wedding and making it perfect."

"You certainly succeeded at that," Carth said softly. "It was beyond my expectations."

"_You_ contributed to the flowers and candles, and the music," Revan pointed out reasonably. "Really, we didn't do that much."

"It was a group effort," Carth said. "And it was beautiful." He leaned over and kissed her tenderly. "Thank you for marrying me."

"You're welcome," she said gravely, but her eyes shone. "Thank you for asking me."

He took her mug and set it on the side table, standing and helping her off the couch. "Come on, Wife," he said with a grin. "Let's go to bed."

"Best idea you've had all day."

* * *

"You _what_?!" I shouted at my new husband. He was cross-legged on the bed, calmly eating breakfast from a plate balanced on his knee.

"Got arrested," Atton repeated with studied casualness. "Try some of these eggs, they're fabulous."

"How," I asked with forced patience, "did that happen?"

Atton gave up trying to distract me with food and recounted the whole story, including the fight between Stefan and Canderous at the end of the evening. I listened, not speaking until he was finished. I sighed deeply, eyeing him with suspicion.

"That's it?" I asked pointedly. "There's nothing else you need to confess?"

"Nope," Atton said with false cheer. "It turned out all right, and we got to the wedding in time. And it's not on any record, so we're all good."

"I _knew_ something had happened," I said, standing and pacing around the room. "Everyone told me it was wedding jitters."

"Afraid not," Atton said regretfully. "I hadn't realized you had a glimmer of it. I guess I can't block you as well as I thought."

"It happens that way sometimes when there's an emotional tie," I said, dismissing his observation. "I often get flashes from Annie too."

"Ones she's not aware of?" Atton asked with interest.

"Sometimes," I said quietly. "I don't know if it's the same for everyone, though."

"She's the only one I've met who is as good as I am with mental ability," Atton said consideringly. "I'm sort of amazed you're not more developed in that respect, if you can sense things we don't intend you to so easily."

"One, it's not so easy," I said, sitting back down on the bed and finishing my breakfast. "I don't try to do it, it just comes. I've tried to force it and it never works. Two, I'm more of an empath; my flashes are based on emotion. Mind domination is not my forte."

"I suppose not," Atton said, getting up and putting our dishes away. "There's a subtle difference. So," he asked with a charming smile, "You're not mad?"

"No," I said with another sigh. "None of it was your fault, and it turned out all right. I'm glad Canderous and Stefan settled things between them."

"Yeah, that was pretty amazing," Atton said with a grin. "I've never seen anyone but Jennet beat him."

"There's something bothering you, though," I turned the full force of my gaze on my husband, my intuition buzzing. "What is it?"

"Windor," Atton said shortly, not at all surprised at my question. He repeated the conversation between them, puzzled at its significance. "I can't get a handle on what he's after," he said, shaking his head. "He's pretty good with the mental domination, but no match for me. But…I was floored that he could sense me probing. I know I didn't dig deep enough for most people to tell. Hell, not even Revan might have detected it, if she was sufficiently distracted. And yet, he was surprised I could block him so easily. Really mixed signals there."

"I don't dislike Windor," I said slowly. "But I agree there's something off about him. I'm certain he's on our side; we've all studied the camouflage technique and can be reasonably sure to spot it. It's much more difficult to project a Light aura if you're dark than the other way around. And Windor has no gift for Force bonds; I've checked his record. So he couldn't be borrowing it like Bastila did."

"Maybe it's simply that he's into you," Atton suggested. "It was almost a banthashit male dominance feel."

"He's spoken to me in ways that could be interpreted as overtures," I mused. "But I can't imagine he's so attracted that he'd confront my fiancé the night before our wedding. Not to mention that it's simply bad manners. Windor's all about appearances, he keeps things very correct."

"Don't underestimate your appeal, sweetheart," Atton said cheerfully. "You're a beautiful woman, and naturally attract people. He's male, and breathing. Of course he wants you."

"I suppose so," I acknowledged doubtfully. I scowled at him. "You needn't be so cheerful about it."

"Would you rather I be jealous?" Atton asked with an innocent air. "I can do that."

I gave him a speaking look and he grinned.

"Seriously, Dria, you _are_ an empath. Maybe you just got to him unintentionally, and he's all wacky over you. That's a possibility." Atton cocked an eyebrow at me.

I thought this over. Forming Force bonds was unusual, especially as easily as I could. We had postulated that the reason for it was that in my case, it stemmed from emotion, rather than a significant sharing of powers. I had combed through my memories, sometimes with Atton or Annie's help, and in every case of Force bonding I had, the evidence supported this theory. We could assume, then, that this was fact.

This empathy intensified my ability to attract and influence others; this also was fact. But to have the sort of influence Atton suggested, _I_ have to have some sort of emotional connection to the subject. As a General during the Mandalorian War, I had cared deeply for the people I led, whether I knew them personally or not. This was the emotional tie that connected me to my troops, and was likely the reason they were so protective and loyal to me. Looking back, I realized now that the most intensely loyal of my officers and personnel were the ones that I did know well. Bao Dur was a perfect example; I cared about him in a personal way and thought of him as a friend, and he in turn was one of my fiercest supporters. It didn't make our friendship any less real, but it probably started unintentionally from me reaching out to him in the first place. I didn't form a Force bond with him then, however, because he simply wasn't close _enough_ to me at the time for me to drop my mental shields. But the loyalty had held, even when he had suspected me of becoming Sith.

With Windor I had nothing but a sort of distant respect for him as a fellow Jedi. In any personal sense, I had no interest, and therefore he shouldn't be influenced much. Not to mention that I'm extremely careful to have an emotional distance from people I don't already have a personal connection with. In Windor's case, I was almost repelled and took more than usual care in keeping a wall up. On reflection, I realized that the people I'm the closest to I also have both the most and least influence over; I've subconsciously selected strong minded individuals that are not likely to be manipulated. In essence, they follow me because of respect and affection, not because I've made them do anything. The Force bonds I share with my former Padawan and Annie simply intensify their trust in me, not create it.

"Doesn't scan," I said finally. "I have to have an emotional tie to have that sort of effect, and I simply don't have any with Windor."

Atton looked at me quizzically and asked, "Have you ever tried to influence someone you don't personally like or respect?"

"Only in the normal Jedi fashion of mind tricks," I said, not offended by his question. "I'm very careful not to risk a bond with just anyone. Even before I lost my connection with the Force, I instinctively kept a distance. As far as I know, only Annie and Mak developed a bond with me before I came back from exile. And," I added, "I've never deliberately formed a Force bond, ever. All of mine have been a result of emotional attachment. Except with Kreia."

"Then I have to conclude that either he's a frustrated suitor, or there's something else going on," Atton said positively. "I know this whole Force bond thing was a bit uncontrolled there for a while, but you met Windor _after _you understood how it worked." He looked at me with sympathy. "You know, I wish I could go back sixteen years and just beat the hell out of the Council," he said, only half joking. "A lot of pain could have been avoided for you if they'd just studied your power and helped you develop it. Instead, they allow you to believe you're emotionally stunted. What a crock," he snorted derisively. "Hell, Kavar even admitted they kept you in ignorance for fear you'd develop it further and consciously use it to take control of the Order."

"Logical," I pointed out. "Absolute power corrupts absolutely."

"Most of the time, yes," Atton agreed. "But they underestimated your basic nature. I really believe you're one of the rare people that can have that sort of power and not let it corrupt you. Like Jennet," he said. "She has it too, though not on your scale, and it only seems to work with the Mandoa, really. You notice neither Revan or I have it, yet we're both stronger than you mentally. The Force gives gifts where they can be the most effective."

"I agree with you there," I said thoughtfully. "At least that the Force doesn't often bestow gifts one can't handle. Everyone I've ever met that was damaged by their innate abilities had some outside factor that caused it. Battle wounds, emotional abuse, isolation. In my case, I caused my own damage when I cut myself off from the Force. Reconnecting made my abilities uncontrolled for a while."

"But even that was an instinctive act to protect yourself from corruption," Atton said quietly. "What would have happened if you _hadn't_ cut yourself off?"

"There's no way to be certain," I said slowly. "But the most logical outcome would have been I would have fallen to the dark side. It would have been the only choice open to me to stop the pain. You can't hurt if you don't care."

"You've proved my point," Atton said smugly. "Instead of choosing the dark side, you cut yourself off entirely. The Force chose you for a reason."

"This is all speculation," I said, with some asperity. "And it has nothing to do with whatever Windor's all about."

"I think he'll approach us about it in time," Atton said with a shrug. "Or not. I think we can safely say he's one of the good guys, even if we don't like him much."

"I suppose you're right," I admitted. "No use trying to make conclusions on so little data."

"I thought we could spend another couple of days here," Atton changed the subject abruptly, dismissing Windor and his mysterious comments. "Maybe check out the new community the former refugees built before we go."

"I'd like that," I approved. "Beyond that, there's not a lot that appeals to me about Nar Shadaa. Of course, there's the Pazzak den," I said generously. Atton is well aware of my lack of interest in the game, but I was willing to compromise.

He eyed me with some surprise. "Whatever in the world would make you think I'd want to spend time on my honeymoon playing Pazzak?" he asked.

"Um," I said idiotically.

"Dria, I enjoy the game, yeah, but it's more of a tool for me. I brought you here mostly because there _isn't_ a lot to do here that either of us have a passion for." He pulled me close and kissed me thoroughly, making me sigh. "My only interest right now is you. I have no intention of leaving this room until tomorrow afternoon, when we'll go see the refugees, followed swiftly by getting the hell off this cesspit and finding someplace that we can enjoy some real entertainment. Preferably the sort that makes us real eager to get naked again."

"What kind is that?" I asked with honest interest.

"Anything that stimulates both body and mind," Atton answered, trailing kisses along my jaw. "I expect for you that would be music or art, or some sort of physical activity that doesn't involve killing anyone."

"Swoop bikes," I said promptly. "I love to race."

He looked at me in astonishment. "You do? How come I never knew that?"

"I never did it when you were around," I confessed. "You acted so protective of me and I didn't want to argue that I was perfectly safe. How do you think I raised the credits to get us to Nar Shadaa in the first place?"

"Selling stuff we came across and the fight ring, I thought," Atton said, looking at me like he'd never seen me before. "Swoop racing is so elemental I never thought it would be your thing."

"_You_ race," I pointed out.

"Yeah, and I'm a hell of a lot more reckless than you," he retorted. "I fly better, too."

"Flying's different," I sniffed. "A lot safer. Boring."

"My point exactly," Atton said dryly. "But I'd argue the boring part. If you were a _real _pilot, you wouldn't say that." He grinned at my squeal of outrage. Fending off a half-hearted blow to his jaw, he said meditively, "I'm finding it hard to put you and swoop racing together in my head."

"I'm surprised you didn't know," I said carefully. "You uncovered lots of things I'd buried deeper when we connected mentally."

"I wasn't really trying to assimilate it all," Atton said, shrugging. "It happened so fast. I saw the…" he trailed off and changed gears quickly. "The things I did remember had a direct effect on our relationship," he said quietly. "They needed to be faced."

"You don't have to dance around it, love," I said gently. "You remembered the rape because it was something that affected _us_. Swoop biking doesn't. Simple."

"You're just full of surprises," Atton said with grimace. "Okay, I admit I don't like talking about it at all."

"Neither do I," I said softly. "But I don't have to hide from it anymore. It's past, and doesn't cripple me now."

"I know," Atton said, kissing my cheek. He dismissed the subject, dragging us back to the former point. "But, damn, swoop bikes? I would have never guessed that."

"I bet I could beat you by at least three seconds on any track," I said with amusement.

"You're on," he said promptly. "And now I know what our next stop is."

"Where?"

"Manaan," he answered, grinning. "It's got the best swoop track around after Taris was destroyed."

"I would have thought Tatooine," I said reflectively. "The desert really adds to the challenge. All that sand."

"Geographically, I'd say you're right," he agreed. "But Manaan has the most professional circuit."

"True," I smiled. "Manaan it is. Now that we have that settled, what exactly were your intentions for today?"

He pulled me against him, kissing me with an abrupt heat that made my toes curl. "Staying naked, and making you scream," he said when we came up for air.

I leaned over and bit his earlobe, just hard enough to make him groan. "We'll just see who screams first."


	28. A Matter of Trust

Author's note: Well, I hope everyone enjoyed the wedding nights. Here's what they were up to during the honeymoon. Please read and review!

Always, LJ

* * *

"I don't want a beach," Revan said to Carth as they boarded the Ebon Hawk.

"No beach?" Carth didn't seem all that surprised, and she looked at him sharply. "Okay, sand and surf out. What did you have in mind?"

T3 beeped in cheerful welcome as they made their way up the ramp and headed to the cabin. Revan patted its head as she passed, murmuring hello. "I've been thinking about it." She tossed her bags into the closet as they entered the cabin, catching his as he lobbed them in the general direction and hanging up the garment bags that contained their more formal attire. "As romantic as paradise sounds, I'd rather go somewhere we really wouldn't be disturbed."

"Okay," Carth said affably. "It's not like I've made reservations anywhere. You have somewhere in mind?"

"Yes," she stopped and looked at her husband, her eyes solemn. "I want to go home, Carth."

He gazed at her a moment. "Telos?" he asked gently.

"Yes."

He smiled, and it was like a sun breaking through clouds. "You got it, Beautiful."

* * *

I'd been to Manaan a few times, but not, of course, in the last ten years. Atton had told me about the Sith being kicked out, and the atmosphere had changed radically since. The officials at the dock were far more affable, and the tourists rowdier. But the view was the same; bright sparkling water as far as the eye could see. I sighed with pleasure looking over the vast ocean and had to be prodded by my husband to stop staring and move on to the hotel.

We checked in, left our bags, and immediately headed to the swoop registration area. During my exile, I had owned a modified swoop bike, which fit in the cargo area of the small ship I had acquired. It had been useful as transportation planet side, quick and maneuverable, able to squeeze in where speeders couldn't. I had done my best to dampen the engine noise to make it stealthier, as well. That had sacrificed speed, though, and I soon abandoned this alteration. Annie and I had exchanged ships, and consequently bikes, in her haste to send me back to known space. I never did ask her what had become of mine. Atton had his bike in the Sphinx's garage, and I wanted to find a good used one for me.

As Atton haggled with the race official, I wandered over to the makeshift swoop bike lot. There were about a dozen for sale, with various modifications. Some were so obviously past their prime no amount of fix-up would get them back on the track, and I wondered why their owners bothered, or why anyone would buy them. Spare parts, maybe?

Two looked to be in good shape, and I checked them over carefully. I was halfway through inspecting the second one when Atton caught up to me, shaking his head.

"They're less than friendly around here with amateur racers," he reported with a slight scowl. "They've got the best class of racers in the sector and know it. But I got us in."

"Good job," I approved. "When?"

"Tomorrow, mid-afternoon." He looked over the bike, squatting to inspect the engine and brakes. "This looks pretty good," he said, nodding. "I'd like to listen to the engine, though."

"What a good idea," I said sweetly. "I wouldn't have thought of that."

He had the grace to flush. "Sorry," he mumbled. "Your mechanical skills are excellent, just a habit."

I nodded coolly and looked around for the owner. It took some time, but eventually we were able to listen, prod and test drive the two bikes, settling on the first one that I had noticed. There was nothing at all wrong with it that a tune-up wouldn't cure. Atton and I rented garage space for a couple of hours to do just that. We also paid for a secure parking area for both our bikes. Atton left me to finish up on mine to go fetch his, and then we were both ready for some practice runs.

I took my first run at about two-thirds speed, getting the feel of my new bike and memorizing the track layout. I knew that they changed the hazards around roughly once a week, and the last change had been yesterday; it was one of the things I had asked immediately. I could feel Atton watching me drive, wondering how I could make such a bet with him. I didn't look like a hotshot racer, and knew it. I didn't care; I loved racing, was good at it, and did things my own way. He'd learn.

It had been about nine months since I'd last raced. Even at a relatively slow speed I was enjoying the feel of wind on my face and smell of the sea. I took two slow practice runs, after which I was certain I could hit most of the accelerators full out, while avoiding hazards. I did a third run at near top speed, just to make certain. Smiling, I parked and watched Atton ride.

He drove his bike as he drove anything, with total concentration and instinctive flair. It was a pleasure to watch him plow through the course like he owned it. He was very good, as I had expected. But unless my bike blew an engine, I had the bet cold.

He finally parked and strolled over to me, smiling rather tentatively. I smiled back serenely, knowing he was wondering what I was up to. I simply got up and kissed him with enthusiasm.

"Mmmm," he said appreciatively. "I love you too. So you want to tell me why you're driving like an arthritic old lady?"

"Getting the feel of the track," I shrugged.

"And you don't think running it a couple times full speed will help?" he asked reasonably.

"I don't need to," I said calmly.

"It's your loss," he said cheerfully. "Don't cry foul tomorrow when I win."

"Fine with me," I grinned. "What are the stakes?"

He eyed me with caution. "You're not much of a gambler," he said slowly. "So I have to believe you're confident you'll win. Why am I thinking you're setting me up?"

"It's not a setup unless I was deliberately leading you to believe I'm not as good as I am. I didn't do anything different today than I ever do," I pointed out. "I just don't go all out unless it's a real race."

"Fair enough," Atton nodded. "It's just…it's a different feel at higher speeds. I don't see how you can be so sure of yourself on a track you haven't run before without trying it at least once fast."

"I did run the track," I insisted. "Speed isn't a factor for me."

"I don't take sucker bets," Atton said flatly. "You believe you'll win. You're not a person to insist on an outcome unless you're sure of it. So no deal."

"Well," I said regretfully, "You're a very intelligent man. I can't argue logic."

"But…" he said thoughtfully, "I will make one bet with you."

"That being?" I raised my brows in inquiry.

"If you beat the best time out there tomorrow, you have to show me how well you _really_ fly." He cocked his head at me, a half smile on his face. "Ships, not bikes."

"I don't understand," I said, brows knitting in puzzlement. "How is that a reward for me?"

"Well…" Atton said consideringly, "you've said flying's boring. Either you're so good at it that's it's no longer a challenge, or you've never learned what it's all about. So you're either going to show me up, or I'll get to teach you a thing or two. Either way, you win."

"I suppose," I said dubiously. "Assuming I want to do either."

"Hey," Atton coaxed. "I've got an ego, sweetheart, but it's not so big I can't admit when someone's better than I am. Either way, I'd love to see it. Really."

"You don't have to make a bet with me to do that," I smiled.

"No," he agreed cheerfully, "but it makes things interesting. If you lose, it'll either be because you're not as good as you think you are, or you threw the race."

"Why would I throw the race?" I demanded.

"To spare me? Because you don't like to fly? Hell if I know," he said, shrugging.

"You know," I said quietly, "I didn't say I could beat all the professional racers. I just said I could beat _you._"

"And I said I believe you," he said easily. "If you can beat _me,_ you'll likely set the track record."

"I'm not sure which of us is more arrogant here," I laughed. "Okay, you're on."

"That settled, I want to race you. Now."

I looked at him with surprise. "Now? It's not official on practice runs."

"Doesn't have to be," he said, kissing my cheek. "Just between us."

"Why?"

"I want to see how good you are," he said simply. "I'll go pay the track master."

He ran first, and I immediately saw the difference when he was serious. He drove smoothly, hitting most of the accelerators to boost his bike even faster, avoiding the hazards with almost clairvoyant casualness. His shifting was near perfect, and I was impressed. I cheered as he hit the finish line and we waited to see his time. Very good, I admitted. Not more than a couple of seconds slower than track best. I was going to have to beat the record by at least a full second to make good on my boast. Then I was up.

I mounted my bike, closing my eyes and tuning in to the sound of the engines, grasping the steering stick and letting the energy flow. The light went green, and I was off. My bike was excellent; it responded to my lightest touch and shifted like a dream. I hardly had to look at the track; it was already imbedded in my mind and I hit all but the two accelerators I'd already dismissed as being too far out of the pattern I'd chosen to be worth using. My world had shrunk to me, the bike, and the track, and I felt the familiar exhilaration of knowing this was mine. I hit the finish at full speed and throttled back, powering down perfectly at the end of the strip.

Hopping out, I looked at the clock and grinned. I'd beat Atton by three and a half seconds, give or take a tenth.

When I returned to my husband, he was grinning all over his face. "You weren't kidding," he said admiringly. "You're fantastic!"

"Thanks," I said breathlessly as he picked me up and whirled me around, kissing me soundly.

"And you're glowing," he said, setting me down. "You really love this."

"I said I did," I pointed out, but couldn't help the silly grin threatening to split my face.

"Yeah, you did, and I've never been so happy to lose," Atton enthused. "I'm placing a huge bet on you tomorrow."

"No pressure," I laughed.

* * *

The flight to Telos took about four hours, most of which Revan and Carth spent talking in the cockpit. Will Cantor had left an hour ahead of them, to report to Coruscant and his out-processing from the military. He was positively euphoric about his acceptance into the Order, a state Carth wasn't used to seeing in his quiet and efficient aide. He commented on it to Revan, who smiled.

"I like Will a great deal," she said. "It's good to see someone so enthusiastic about being Jedi."

"Will's a good man," Carth agreed. "Best aide I've ever had. He'll do brilliantly."

"How did Colonel Braddox take your Jedi status?" Revan asked curiously. She had spoken to Carth's XO a few times, but mostly about general things. His recitation of Carth's virtues was the most personal he had been.

"Max is a little bemused, but supportive," Carth said. "I'm recommending him for his own command, by the way."

"Is that such a good idea?" Revan asked with concern. "With your training for the next year, and the mission coming up, do you want to be breaking in a new XO at the same time?"

"First of all, it will take time to find him a good posting," Carth said seriously. "He's too good to be given the usual garbage scow, get your feet wet, you gotta start somewhere commands. Second, I can't let my personal situation hold back someone with talent and potential."

"You're right," Revan nodded. She grinned. "I can't help it, I think of you first."

Carth leaned over the controls, took her hand and kissed the knuckles. "I appreciate that."

"So when was the last time you went home?" Revan asked, changing gears.

Carth stared studiously out the view screen. "Two years, give or take."

She gazed at him thoughtfully, noting how stiffly he held his shoulders. "Your lady friend?" she asked softly.

"I took some time off before accepting command of the Eternity," he shrugged. "I spent two of those three months at home. When I left, I swore I wouldn't come back until you were with me."

She was silent, knowing what he hadn't said; the woman he had been involved with had been with him, and they had parted from Telos. She felt an unexpected stab of jealousy of this unknown female that had captured Carth's attention, however briefly. She was honest enough to acknowledge a purely feminine satisfaction that she hadn't been able to keep him. It was unworthy of her, and she knew it. She spent a few fierce moments struggling with herself and with an almost visible effort was able to let it go. She sighed deeply.

"I'm sorry," her voice was quiet. "I know how much you love your home."

He smiled at her briefly. "I do. But I figured out it wasn't home anymore without you. Besides," he added easily, the tension disappearing, "it's not like I have a lot of spare time to hang out there. I considered selling the place."

"You did?!" she didn't mean to shout, but it was surprised out of her. "What in the galaxy for?" she asked in a more sedate tone.

"It seemed a waste," Carth said quietly, not looking at her. "It's a beautiful house, and was only being used occasionally, whenever Dustil or Mission or I had some time away. It deserved to have a family in it full time. But…I couldn't let it go, so I hired a company to go in once a month or so, keep it in repair and clean so when one of the kids had time off they could go home."

"But not you," Revan said quietly.

"No," Carth shook his head. "Don't feel bad, Rev. We all had things to deal with while you were gone. I had my job, that helped a lot. You were fighting for your life, for all of us. Not your fault I couldn't deal with some things."

They were silent for a while, each in their own memories. Finally, Revan reached over and took Carth's hand, squeezing it. He squeezed back, turning and smiling at her, his hazel eyes warm.

"Did…" Revan faltered a little, not sure if this was the intrusion it felt like. But she took a breath and asked quickly, "Did you tell her I was back, about getting married?" She couldn't imagine when he'd had time, but knew he was the master of time management. It was certainly possible, and like him to do it.

He didn't answer right away, just looked at her thoughtfully. "You do recall she's married with a baby, right? And her name is Hava."

"Yes, I remember," Revan said, ashamed of her prying but not seeming able to stop herself. "I know you're still friends, and I'm okay with that. It's just…we lost so much time, and…I can't help being…a little jealous. She was there when you were promoted, for one." Her head was down. "I really am glad you tried, I don't blame you in the slightest."

"But it's different in the abstract, as opposed to knowing she's out there, and you'll probably meet her someday," Carth said shrewdly. "Believe me, Rev, I understand. I can't even say I'd take it back or do it different, looking back. If I'd known when you were coming home…" he shook his head regretfully. "I know I could have held out, not made such a mess of things. It was the not knowing." He shrugged helplessly.

"Yes," Revan looked at him then, and smiled sadly. "I told you I understand, and I do. When did you comm…Hava?" She said the name steadily enough, but Carth wasn't fooled. He didn't comment, though, knowing it was better to keep it matter of fact.

"The day before the wedding…the one that didn't happen," Carth said, his voice straightforward. "It wasn't fair for her to find out over the grapevine. Admiral Onasi's nuptials would be all over the fleet as soon as it was announced. Hava's husband is military, as is she, you know. No way she'd miss the gossip. She wished me happy," he added with a small smile.

"I'll bet," Revan snorted. "You said she didn't like me."

"She doesn't know you," Carth argued gently. "She just doesn't like her friend hurt, that's all. And that's all we ever really were. Friends."

"I know," Revan said again. "I'm just being a jealous bitch, and know it."

"Well, you're here now, and I can go home." That simple statement warmed her more than anything he could have said, and she slipped out of the copilot's seat, kneeling on the floor and leaning on his shoulder. He put his arm around her, embracing her firmly. "Love you, Rev," he whispered.

"Love you too, Handsome," she kissed his cheek.

They arrived at Telos an hour later. Carth punched in the security codes to deactivate the automatic defense system that protected the property from intruders. It wasn't quite military quality, but near enough, he had told her once. Necessary with the house standing empty most of the time. They landed and parked in the hangar behind the two story, old-fashioned stone house that sat near the edge of the grounds, a wide sweeping expanse of young woodland taking up most of the ten acres making a picturesque setting for the home and gardens.

Revan sighed with pleasure on seeing it again. The house had been in the Onasi family for six generations, and Carth had completely updated it just before his marriage to Morgana. How it had escaped destruction during the war, he never did understand. Morgana had been killed at her mother's, a good fifty klicks away. He hadn't lived in it for years after the loss of his family. The memories had been too painful. It was only after the Star Forge mission that he had regularly lived there in between assignments. Revan had loved it the minute she saw it.

It was a big rectangular structure, not as huge as the Mandalore's, of course, but large enough to house a good sized family. Made from local stone, the modernization didn't detract from the quaintness of its design. The gardens were well tended and colorful, and as they approached, Revan saw that everything shone. The windows gleamed, the trim was freshly painted, and the walkway was swept. The maintenance company must be extraordinarily dedicated, she thought.

Carth stopped her as she automatically started to punch in the access code next to the front door. She looked up quizzically.

"Let me," he said, swiftly finishing the sequence. As the door opened, he swept her up in his arms and carried her over the threshold. "Welcome home, Mrs. Onasi," he said, setting her on her feet.

"It hasn't changed a bit," she said, trying to see everything at once.

She looked around and realized there were no dust covers, no sign that it had been unoccupied for more than a year. She turned in a circle in the foyer, noting the familiar hardwood floors gleaming with polish, the same broad staircase leading to the upper floor, the comfortable leather furniture in the living area. Something clicked and she turned to him with a huge smile.

"You knew I was going to want to come here, didn't you?" she asked. "You must have called ahead and had them open the house."

"Let's just say I hoped so," Carth admitted. "I thought it was a better than average chance you'd suggest it yourself."

"And if I had taken you up on the sand and surf?" she teased.

"I'd have suggested this be our last stop before Coruscant," he said promptly. "But I couldn't imagine you not wanting to come home for at least a few days."

"This," she said, kissing him silly, "is what I love about you. You know me better than I know myself."

Hand in hand, they toured the house, Revan getting more sentimental with each room. By the time they inspected the upstairs, she was close to crying.

"Hey, Beautiful," Carth kissed her gently. "It's okay. The house missed you too."

It was an odd, fanciful thing for him to say, and she stared at him a minute. But she hadn't missed the warmth and welcome that seemed to flow out of the walls, and the feeling of coming home at last. She knew that wherever Carth was, she'd be, and that was as it should be. But here…_this_ was the place she would always picture when she thought of home. And now, she really was a part of its history. She was married to the heir of the Onasi family, his son to follow when the time came.

"Yes," she said finally, shining with happiness. "I missed it, too."

* * *

Later that night, drowsy and contented in bed, Atton rolled over, his face serious. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," I traced a finger idly down his arm, smiling dreamily. Sex with my husband is a bigger high than swoop racing, I thought with immense satisfaction.

"You're glowing again," he said softly, kissing my temple. "Nice to see."

"Mmmm," I nuzzled his ear. "That wasn't a question."

"No," he chuckled. "I wanted to ask…and I don't want you take this wrong…" he was hedging, and I looked up sharply.

"What is it?" I asked, backing away and sitting up.

"Now, don't get defensive," he pulled me closer, but I sat stiffly.

"Just ask," I said.

"It's just…I know the Order screwed up your perception about yourself," he said quietly. "I just wondered…why is it I don't see you show much real enthusiasm about anything?"

I'd expected this question sooner or later. I just didn't expect it to hurt as much as it did. My face stilled. "I do about you," I said quietly.

"And racing, I found out today," he agreed. "You get enthusiastic about the Order, sort of…"

"What do you mean, 'sort of'?" I eyed him, hating how defensive I sounded but not seeming to be able to stop it.

"Look," Atton sat up and ran a hand down his face. "I'm going about this all wrong."

"That depends on what you're doing," I said. I thought about trying to read him, but suspected I'd get a mental Pazzak hand. "Just say it."

"Okay," he let out his breath in a slow sigh, and looked at me squarely. "I get that you've had to block yourself off most of your life," he said carefully. "But does that include having to shut down everything, even basic pleasure out of, hell, I don't know, music, or dancing, or flying?"

"Or Pazzak?" I asked, a little caustically. He flinched.

"Not everyone enjoys the game," he said evenly. "I have a sneaking suspicion that you don't not because you don't get it, but because you get it too well. Like flying."

"You're not making any sense," I said crisply, drawing back to matter-of-factness. "I get it too well? Flying too?"

"I'm only just beginning to realize how quickly you adapt and learn," he seemed to be struggling to find words, and I wasn't in a mood to help him. "I think you don't like Pazzak because it's too easy for you. A lot of things are."

"Easy?" I asked, trying hard to be calm. Not many would have seen through it, but Atton just looked at me and I saw the understanding dawning. I looked away.

"Dria," he said softly, "Until today, the only time I see you really letting go is when you're with me."

"And this is a problem?" I asked frostily.

"Yes," he said, and I could see him starting to be irritated himself. "I told you I loved your passion, but until today, I didn't understand how controlled you keep yourself. Even on the track you held something back. Why?"

"Does it matter?"

"It does to me," he said quietly. "If only because I want you to be the most of who you are."

I slipped off the bed and turned my back, putting a few paces of distance between us. I hugged my elbows with my hands and hadn't a clue what to say. I heard him scoot over to the side of the bed and the muffled sound of his feet hitting the floor. My spine stiffened but I didn't, couldn't, turn around.

"I've seen you lose control of yourself maybe a half a dozen times since I've met you," Atton's voice was soft behind me. "Each time you were surprised by something. Even when we fought when you first got back, you held back. I was being a royal bastard, and you shouted, but your passion wasn't really there. You love people without reservation, but you don't really let them in. I think I understand why…."

"Do you?" I cut in harshly. "Pray enlighten me."

He was silent long enough that I almost turned around to see if he'd simply gone to sleep. But then he spoke heavily. "They trained you to be still."

"What?" His choice of words surprised me, and I turned to look at him.

"They were so afraid of what you could do, that they taught you to be in utter control of yourself," Atton said quietly. "And I see you going back to it now."

"What do you mean, back to it?" I was bewildered at this conversation, defensive and suddenly frightened. Which, perversely, was starting to make me angry.

"You reconnected with the Force about fifteen months ago," Atton pointed out. "And all that time, I've watched you grow more into yourself. You've had uncontrolled moments, but they're getting fewer and farther between. You're so perfect you're practically robotic."

"Thanks," I said, turning away and unable to keep the hurt out of my voice. "Nice to know how you think of me."

"That's not it, Dria," Atton protested, sounding peeved. "I'm screwing this up, and I don't mean I…damn it, I just mean…ah, shit." I heard him stand and start toward me. I retreated behind the dressing table chair, a poor shield but the only one handy.

"Look," he said helplessly, "I shouldn't have started this, or said anything. It's just that if you keep on like this, I don't know if I'll know you anymore. And I love you."

"Like _what_?" I asked, suddenly furious. "You marry me and suddenly realize I'm damaged goods?"

"See, that's the real you," Atton said with some satisfaction. "You're mad."

"Of course I'm mad!" I spat. "Just because I don't display every emotion, or pretend to, doesn't mean I don't feel things."

"I never said you didn't," Atton said quietly. "I know you do, better than anyone. But you keep yourself on such a tight rein that I'm afraid you'll snap." He approached cautiously, and when I didn't flinch away he gathered me into his arms. But I stood stiff as a durasteel beam and cursed inwardly that I was trembling.

"You're doing it again," he murmured in my ear. "You hate that you're angry. You have a horror of losing control. All I want to know is why."

"Don't you?" I asked, starting to relax a little. His warmth made the trembling stop.

"Yeah, I do," he admitted readily. "But it's different…I've done terrible things. I don't want to go back to that. You haven't."

"I blew up a whole planet," I pulled away. "I win."

"No, you didn't," Atton corrected, letting me go for now but retaining my hand. "You followed orders. Bao Dur invented the Shadow Generators, Revan gave the order, you executed it. For that matter, the Mandalorians started the war that led to all of it. And you want to take full responsibility? That's arrogant, even to me."

I smiled a little at that, and we stood there, Atton struggling to understand, me not knowing if he ever could. Gradually, I felt my defensiveness fall away, and sighed, wishing we could have put off this conversation forever. But I knew that it had been coming since the first time we'd met, and it was more than time to face things.

I took a deep breath, and slowly let it out. I let go of his hand, turned away and stood a good distance from him, wrapping my arms around my waist and clutching at my elbows. The room was warm but I was growing chilled, although I didn't allow myself to shiver. I sensed Atton behind me, trying to be patient but utterly at sea as to where I was going. I gathered my thoughts, and spoke.

"I was four when I first hurt someone badly," I said quietly. "I didn't mean to. I was growing stronger in the Force, astonishingly so. One of the other Padawan learners was teasing me, and took the flower I was tending for class, and crushed it. Botany was one of my favorite subjects," I said, remembering. "I threw him against the wall. He broke his spine."

I heard Atton let out his breath suddenly. "Oh shit," he said so quietly I almost missed it. "Did he recover?"

"Yes," I said, closing my eyes. "The Master got to him right away, and healed the worst of the damage. It took a week for him to heal, but in the end, no harm was done. My lessons started the next day. No one did or said anything to indicate I was bad. But I never forgot seeing that boy on the floor, so still, knowing I did that. His name was Arden." I breathed slowly, carefully, as I'd been taught.

"But Dria…you were a child. You just lost control when you shoved him, that's all. I understand it was…"

"No, you don't understand," I said, turning around with my eyes stark. "I never laid a hand on him."

"You…" he stopped, swallowing. "Oh."

"Yes," I said, nodding. "Now you're starting to see."

I started to pace, trying to put into words what I'd been so adept at hiding. "The Masters said that when they took me from the orphanage, they saw signs that I emotionally manipulated everyone there. I wasn't spoiled, or treated badly, I was quite a favorite, actually. Not one of the caretakers there was surprised I was Jedi material; they were very pleased to see me go to the enclave to train. They were _proud_ of me. But apparently, I had been influencing them all along." I shook my head sadly. "One of the nannies from the orphanage, who had been my primary caregiver, tried to kill herself after I left," my voice was nearly a whisper. "Master Vandar sent the best mind-healers at the conclave to help her. They eventually had to wipe her memory of me."

"They _told_ you about that?" Atton looked at me with horror. "A kid? Like it was your fault?"

"No," I shook my head, not able to look at him. "Not until later, when I started questioning why I was treated differently from the other Padawan learners. Master Vandar was quite gentle about telling me, I assure you. But it didn't make me feel any better about it." I resumed my pacing. "It took at least two years before the other younglings weren't afraid of me anymore, after I almost killed Arden. Only Revan and Malak weren't. But even though he didn't fear me, Malak didn't become my friend until I beat him up." I smiled wanly. "I had learned how not to use my mind by then when I was angry, but I hit pretty hard for a five year old."

I stopped prowling, sneaking a look at my husband. He was watching me intently, but not as if I was dangerous. It was almost the look Disciple gets when he's made a particularly interesting discovery. I wasn't certain I liked that look any better than fear.

"Everyone, even Master Vrook who was so hard on everyone, liked me, and that was fine, even wonderful," I continued, glad that Atton hadn't run screaming from the room. "But they trained me harder than anyone. My lessons started in a padded room so I couldn't hurt myself or anyone else. Master Vrook spent a week with me, getting me angry, making me lose control. There was a cushion in the room, a big one, almost mattress sized, and he taught me to throw my anger at it. The first day, I almost burned down the room. He switched to plastic, and it melted. I still flinch inside when I smell burning cloth or melted plastic. By the end of the week, I knew how to channel that energy into the air without disaster." I stood there, breathing deeply and trying not to cry. "Even after I became a full Jedi, I had private lessons with Vrook or Vandar or Kavar, working on my mental control. I heard and sensed things differently than other Jedi, without meaning to. I mastered every lesson they gave me, but it was never enough. They didn't let up on me until I was Knighted, because they knew that if I was allowed to lose control, things go wrong."

"Wrong?" Atton asked quietly. "How wrong? That you can unite people for good? Except for losing your temper that one time, how did it hurt anyone?"

"You don't understand," I said, my voice low. "A benevolent dictator is still a dictator. How am I ever certain people really follow me because of _me_, and not because I made them, unless I keep myself under control? I was six when Revan bonded with me, seven when Malak did. After that I understood somewhat, and managed not to do it again. Until I came back."

"Okay," Atton said, striving for patience. "You bonded with them young. I don't see how it's hurt either of them, even Malak. Sure, he went all Sith Lord on you, but you had nothing to do with that."

"No," I agreed. "I was Force dead then, and couldn't have influenced him. Part of me wonders, no, blames myself for that too though…if I hadn't cut myself off, I might have saved him. Or kept Revan from choosing to ally herself with darkness."

"We've been over that, Dria," Atton said sharply. "You would have fallen yourself. I thought you'd come to terms with that."

"I have," I sighed, and waved off his look of doubt. "No, really, I don't blame myself anymore, honestly. But try to understand. Can you _really_ see how it could be, if every thought, emotion, loss of control, could lead to an accidental bonding? Or that if I get angry, I can literally make things explode?"

Atton stared for a long minute, and I could see his mind whirling. "It wasn't _Revan_ who was the biggest threat after the war," he said softly. "It was you."

"It was a lot of things that made me do it," I said tonelessly. "The first and biggest was I felt millions of people die, because of me. It was beyond pain, beyond despair. It was…"

"Hell," Atton finished. "You felt as if you were in hell." He stared at me with an expression that I knew very well. It was the same one I'd seen in my own eyes for years after Malachor V.

"No," I whispered. "I felt like I'd _created_ hell. And I did." I looked away again, swallowing hard. "I had to cut it out," I rasped. "I had to make it stop. Because if I didn't, I'd become something worse. And I _saw_ it, Atton. I saw what I'd be. I saw a universe of destruction, a wasteland. That's what would have been me."

"So you cut off the Force," he said, and I flinched at the awe in his voice. "And instead of a wasteland, you only wounded the universe."

"Only?" I said harshly. "It nearly destroyed every Jedi in it."

"But it didn't," Atton said. "Don't you see? It didn't. The Jedi brought about their own destruction, Dria. Because they didn't train you right, they kept you ignorant and under control."

"They were _right,_ can't you see?" I demanded. "_I_ don't even know what I can do. I don't _want_ to know. If I ever just gave up and gave in, I could…gods, I don't even want to think about it."

"But Dria," Atton came over and put his hands on my shoulders. I was shaking now, threatening to come apart at the seams. "Sweetheart, you _do_ have that control. You've chosen every time to fight back against destruction. You lost everything to keep, well, _everybody_, safe." He kissed the top of my head and I felt the trembling slow.

"I'm not a robot," I said helplessly. "I just…I can't afford to…"

"It's okay," he soothed, turning me around and holding me. "I understand. I'm sorry I said anything."

"It's not your fault," I mumbled against his shoulder.

"It's not _yours_ either," Atton said fiercely. "You see that, don't you?"

"See what?" I asked, suddenly tired and wanting to end the whole discussion.

"You were _born_ something extraordinary, Sweetheart," he peered down into my face earnestly, his hands clasping my upper arms. "Something no Jedi was prepared to deal with or imagined possible. Maybe I was too harsh, I don't know…if you were that strong, that young, it's no wonder they were afraid. And I can understand why they taught you control."

"It's a natural process," I said, nodding and feeling my tension ease. "Growing up is all about controlling impulses, learning to reign in the ego. When your impulses can kill someone, it becomes a little more important to get a hold of yourself," I added dryly.

"Yeah," he said, a touch impatiently, "I get that. What I don't understand is once it became abundantly clear you could and _would _control yourself, why didn't they allow you to develop some of that power? I mean, I'm pretty ticked at them for scarring you badly enough as a child that you didn't dare break rules or form close relationships, or try to develop your many talents, but I can kind of understand the need at first. What I _don't_ get is not allowing you to slowly work on it later."

We had been progressing back to the bed as we talked. I considered Atton's question as I slid under the covers, rolling onto my stomach and clasping a pillow. I had never thought about it that way before, and memories were teeming through my head as I tried to put together the pieces of my past. I felt Atton nearby, not exactly intruding on my thoughts, but aware of them.

The Council insisting on staying out of the war. More specifically, _me_ staying out of it. Force bonding with Annie, then Malak. The Order granting me Master at seventeen. Winning over my troops, barely eighteen with the responsibility of someone triple my age, leading them into battle and winning again and again. Their nearly fanatical devotion to me. Master Vandar's face when I told him I was going with Revan. The Council when I came back and they imposed Exile.

"Master Kavar, no, all of them told me that the exile was something they suggested, that they had no power to make me obey," I said suddenly. "As if they knew, somehow, that I might connect with the Force again some day. And they made me Master at seventeen, a ridiculously young age. I thought it was because they thought I'd have better influence on Annie and Mak if I outranked them. But what if it was something else?"

"They were getting you ready for the next stage of your training," Atton said, his quick mind following my train of thought. "Making you Master, giving you some heavy responsibility. I'm betting they partly made you Master so young, though, because you were simply that good, despite them trying to slow your progress. They couldn't deny you the rank when it was obvious you were stronger and in better control than most."

"It never seemed that way to me," I said quietly. "I knew I had a fair amount of talent, but…"

"Part of the training was to make sure you had humility," Atton interrupted. "Ego unchecked is a dangerous thing. I should know," he said with a shadow of a grin. "But you being you, it backfired some and you took on _too_ much insecurity about yourself and your abilities."

"And I left," I said softly. "I followed Revan, and that was the end of my training. They didn't have time."

"I still think they wouldn't have let you develop it fully," Atton mused. "But yeah, I think they were preparing you to take it a step further."

"But I left," I said again. "And the Council took that as proof that they hadn't done as good a job keeping me obedient and under control as they thought."

"They watched you. Revan and Malak, too, but it was you they were most concerned with, I'll bet," Atton took up the thread. "They must have known you lost connection to the Force, no Master of their level could miss it."

"They didn't," I said softly. "And then I surprised them again. I came back."

"_That _must have given them something to think about," Atton said with an almost savage smile. "You proved you had the integrity they thought you spit on by defying the Council. You faced their judgment, went into exile. Ironic, really," he said with a quirk of his eyebrow, "since you weren't a threat anymore"

"But all along they were worried I'd reconnect with the Force, and when I did, I would blame them for the war, for Malachor V. And probably for what they did to me, if I ever figured it out. They were right," I said softly. "I did blame them, for a time."

"The biggest problem was there wasn't enough Jedi left to really explain everything to you," Atton pointed out. "They were all dead or in hiding. It must have really burned their asses to have to credit you with -"

"Getting the last of the Council killed?" I interrupted harshly. "I hadn't completed the mission then, you know. They didn't credit me with anything."

"I suppose not," he said somberly. "And by then, they'd decided you were too much of a wild card to live."

"And I let them," I said in a small voice. "I was going to let them kill me. Sometimes," I said sadly, "I think they were right."

Atton's hand shot out so fast I didn't see it coming. He grabbed my arm, hauling me upright and shaking me fiercely.

"You listen to me!" he shouted. "You have done _nothing_ but try and care for the whole damn universe, and I won't let you think they were right. The people who should have loved and cared for you kept you ignorant and used you, and yes, including Revan," he growled furiously. "I love her too, but she used you more than anyone. No one, not one of them, ever gave you credit for having the integrity you do. No one trusted that you would truly use your powers for good." He glared at me, his eyes almost black. "Well I _do._ I've seen you fight against ignorance and hate and evil, I've seen you take a chance on people that have done worse than you'd ever _think_ of doing. Me. Visas. Canderous. Bao Dur. Hell, I'll bet even Galactic Scout Disciple has a few skeletons dancing around his closet. But you believed in us. Let _us_ believe in you. Better yet, forget what the Order thought of you and believe you're better than that."

He abruptly loosened his grip on my arm. He was breathing hard, struggling not to shout anymore. But he wasn't done. "History's going to paint Revan as the greatest hero of the ages, I'll bet. And to her credit, she's about the last person to think she deserves it. And," he said fiercely, "she was the one person who knew you then that always believed you would never abuse your power. She said so, remember?" He glowered at me, daring me to disagree. "But to anyone who lived it, the real hero is _you._"

"I never wanted to be," I said when I was sure he was done ranting.

"No hero ever does, sweetheart," he said, smiling suddenly.

"Stop calling me that," I snapped irritably.

"Okay," he agreed cheerfully. "But Dria…will you think about what I said?"

I looked at him a long minute, then nodded.

"Good," he pulled me into his arms and flopped back onto the mattress, cuddling close. "Now," he asked with a change of subject so complete it made my head spin, "when you whip everyone's ass tomorrow, what do you want to do with the credits?"

* * *

_By some people's standards_, Revan reflected a week later, _this honeymoon might seem mundane, even boring_. _No exotic locations, no nightlife, very little drinking, and no other soul around._

But then, most people aren't married to Carth Onasi.

It was exhilarating being married to someone as intelligent, creative, and physically fit as her husband. They had hardly spent any time clothed, which suited both of them fine. Five years of loneliness and longing had manifested into a heady week of not being able to keep their hands off each other. Not a room in the house had been safe, except the two that had been Dustil and Mission's. Of course, one of those would soon be made into a second guest room.

In between, they talked more than either of them had in years. They enjoyed long walks in the woods out back, carrying a blanket and lunch to take advantage of the unusually fine weather and the total privacy of the grounds. She'd spent more time out of her clothes outdoors than in them, and loved every minute of it. Just her, Carth, and the breeze on their skin as they made love was utterly intoxicating. Sighing in pleasure, Revan leaned against her husband, his arm around her, neither of them wearing a stitch. They were sitting on the blanket on the bank of a pond about two klicks from the house.

"We should move our bed out here," she said whimsically. "Best of both worlds."

"Not a bad idea," Carth pretended to consider it. "Canderous would probably lend us one of his war machines to move it."

The bed in question was huge, a four-poster behemoth that probably weighed as much as a small shuttle. It sagged in all the right places and had plenty of room for creativity. Of slightly taller than average height, Revan still needed a step placed conveniently on either side to get into it. The thought of it in the middle of the woods tickled her and she laughed.

"It would get cold in winter," she said with mock regret. "Best leave it inside." She shivered as a gust of wind blew her hair out of her eyes.

"Cold?" Carth asked, grabbing a tunic at random and tossing it at her.

She'd slipped back into her habit of wearing his, belting them and rolling up the sleeves to the elbow. Catching the garment without looking, she tied it jauntily around her shoulders rather than put it on.

"Not really," she smiled.

"Gods," he groaned. "Don't smile like that."

"Like what?" she teased, cat's smile stealing over her lips.

"You're going to kill me, you know that?" Carth leaned close and kissed her. "It's like being a teenager all over again. Minus spots and awkward voice moments and total lack of anything resembling a clue."

"You have a wonderful voice," Revan purred. "Just deep enough to make my knees quiver. And I'd say you have more than a clue what to do with a woman."

"I've been out of practice," Carth said, nuzzling her ear. "But it's like driving a ship; everything comes back to you."

"If this is out of practice," Revan gasped as his tongue touched a particularly sensitive spot, "I won't be able to walk for a week once you're up to speed."

He grinned and proceeded to completely rock her world. Again.

* * *

After winning the swoop bike race, I insisted on donating the winnings to an orphanage. Atton had no problems with that, cheerfully handing over the pouch of credits and relishing the look on the headmistress' face when she opened it. I smiled in satisfaction, grabbed Atton's arm and got us out of there almost before her stammered thanks were out of her mouth. We spent the rest of the week mostly in our room, the door locked securely, opened only occasionally when whatever we'd ordered to eat arrived.

"I've never met a woman so comfortable naked," Atton commented as we ate dinner lounging on the bed, cartons spread around.

"It's just skin," I shrugged. "I notice you have no problems with it."

"Not a bit," he said cheerfully. "I like you naked. In your case, they ought to make clothes illegal." He offered a bite out of the carton he was delving into, and I leaned over to take it. Sauce dripped of the fork and hit me on the chin. Atton quickly licked it off before I could.

"Mmmm. Tastes better off you," he said wickedly.

I smiled, but didn't rise to the bait; I was starving. He sat back, grinning, and grabbed another box.

"I had an idea," he announced as we finished off the last of our meal.

"Clean off the bed first," I said, starting to gather empty carton.

"Not that kind," he laughed, helping me and taking my handful, disposing of them in the incinerator.

"I wore you out already?" I asked innocently. "How disappointing."

He growled at me menacingly, grabbed me around the waist and tossed me on the bed. I hit the mattress giggling and he dove at me, attempting to tickle me. Unfortunately for him, I am difficult to take by surprise in that way, but I gave him a good show. The good natured wrangling ended with me flat on my back, my hands firmly trapped above my head, and his mouth making me moan.

Some time later, he smiled dreamily. "I'm a dead man," he said softly. "I can't get enough of you. I'm so lucky you married me."

"Why is that?" I murmured, his head heavy against my breast. I brushed his hair away from his face.

"Because otherwise, I'd be starting fights all over the galaxy, following you around and trying to kill every man that looks at you." He looked up, his expression only half joking.

"That's hardly healthy," I scolded. "And you're not the jealous type."

"No," he sighed. "I thought not, anyway. But I can't stand the thought of you with anyone else."

"Me either." I said softly. "I can't imagine _being_ with anyone else. And I'm afraid I don't like the idea of _you_ being with another woman, either."

"Good thing you married me, then." His eyes had gone intent. "Because you know I keep my promises."

"I know," I nodded. "So what was your idea?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Oh…well, you won, you know. First, I'd like to see you fly." He propped himself on an elbow, running an idle hand down my arm.

"And second?" I didn't bother to argue with him over the flying. He'd nibble me to death; might as well give in now.

"Let's find some deserted spot, land, and spend the rest of the week on the Sphinx." He nuzzled my neck. "After we go dancing tonight."

"Dancing?" I looked into his eyes as he pulled away.

"You love to dance," he said. "Why not? It's an ego boost for me, too…I get to gloat that I have the most beautiful woman in the galaxy on my arm."

"Okay," I smiled. "For your ego."

I wore the blue dress Mira had found, with my hair wound in braids around my head and took some care with cosmetics. Atton whistled appreciatively when I emerged from the 'fresher.

"I changed my mind," he announced. "I can't take you out like that."

"What's wrong?" I asked, anxiously inspecting my reflection in the mirror over the dresser. The material was smooth, no wrinkles or snags, and the moonstone went perfectly with the outfit. I wore it as a pendant and it glittered against the midnight blue silk.

"Are you kidding? That dress will cause a riot," Atton came over and kissed me. "I'm going to have my hands full."

"Is it too much?" I asked. I was wondering now if it had been a good choice, Mira's advice notwithstanding. The bodice was modest, close fitting with a high neck. It was sleeveless, the dark blue making my hair flame, and almost completely backless, dipping dangerously low before sweeping into a skirt that hugged the curve of my hips.

"It's perfect, sweetheart," Atton assured me, escorting me out of our room with a possessive hand on the small of my back. "Although I do wonder where you put your lightsaber."

His was clipped to his belt as usual. He was wearing a similar suit to his wedding garments, though the jacket was shorter. He looked good enough to eat, and smelled even better. I had a small purse I was carrying, and took my 'saber out of it.

"Carry it for me," I requested. "Toss it to me if there's need."

He stopped dead in the hallway, staring at me. To give another Jedi your lightsaber is an enormous mark of trust. I had taken his exactly once, and he had given it without hesitation. I was _offering_ mine, and he understood immediately the significance.

"Just when I think I couldn't possibly love you more," he said softly, "you do something like this. I'll keep it safe," he promised, and clipped it next to his own.

* * *

"Let's run away," Carth suggested over dinner a few days later. "Just pack up, take off, and never come back."

Revan stared at him, a forkful of salad halfway to her mouth. "What brought this on?" she asked, setting it down carefully.

"These last two weeks have been perfect," he said softly. "I don't want to go back to real life again."

She stood up and held out her arms, and Carth came to her, holding her close and burying his face in her hair. They stood there a long time, just holding each other and breathing.

"I know we can't," he said finally, his voice muffled. "But you were tempted for minute, weren't you?"

"More than you know," she admitted. "Come on, Handsome. Take me to bed."

Arm in arm, they headed up the stairs, food forgotten.


	29. The Thrill of the Chase

We had spent the better part of a week on an uninhabited moon not unlike Dxun, though the climate was milder. Atton had found it in his travels a few years ago and had considered carving out an estate there. He was not a solitary soul, however, and had abandoned his idea of becoming a hermit. But for two newlyweds that desired only each other for company, it was ideal. The beach was beautiful, the ocean brilliantly blue, and there was plenty of fruit to supplement the Sphinx's stores. Local wildlife gave us a wide berth, and we spent hours sunbathing, splashing in the surf, and getting sand in uncomfortable places. It was six days of heaven.

The first day out of Manaan, however, had been spent flying. Atton had driven us to an isolated bit of space and handed over the controls. Twelve hours later, it was undisputed that Atton was the better pilot. He'd drilled me mercilessly, flying me through every obstacle he could find, and I'd performed well, even brilliantly, but not with his effortless genius. I simply didn't have the soul-deep love of flying that he possessed.

"You're good," he said with honest admiration, grinning widely. "Really good, in fact. It's painfully obvious, though, that flying bores you."

"I told you," I said mildly as he guided the Sphinx toward his hideaway.

"Yeah, you did," he acknowledged. "I just couldn't believe that anyone that can drive a swoop bike like you do could find flying a ship boring. I'd still love to see you in combat, though."

"I'll admit that doesn't bore me," I laughed. "I'm too busy trying to stay alive."

He looked at me thoughtfully. "That's it," he said quietly.

"What?" I asked suspiciously. He had the look in his eye that said he'd figured out something I hadn't considered, and would possibly resent.

"It's not interesting to you unless the stakes are critical," he said with a trace of triumph.

I stared at him. "Are you saying I'm a thrill junkie?" I asked with some asperity.

"Yeah," he said with look that was a mixture of amusement and respect. "That's exactly what I'm saying."

"I'm not that reckless," I retorted, but felt a sinking sensation in my gut. "I leave that sort of thing to you and Revan."

He continued to stare at me with that light in his eyes. I looked away.

"You couldn't take chances mentally," he said softly. "So you unconsciously challenged yourself physically. No one else could get hurt, and you got both some rebellion and stress relief out of your system."

The churning sensation in my stomach intensified. I couldn't look at Atton while I turned over his words in my mind. It was true, I admitted, that I felt most stimulated when I was pushing myself to the limit. I approached battle not with the fervor of Jennet or Canderous, but with the cool-headed logic I'd been taught. It was the enemy or me; therefore I will eliminate the threat. But under it, I had always felt the thrill of challenge. I don't enjoy killing, but I _do _enjoy how alive I feel facing the odds and winning. Fight rings and swoop racing were the closest I could get to real combat without risk of killing anyone but myself.

As a child and later during combat training, I had used physical release to balance constant mental restraint. I had no other course open to me. Except with Revan and Malak, who were already bonded to me, close friendships led to disaster, or so I believed. I was denied common ways of releasing tension; in consequence I had spent hours practicing with weapons, pitting myself against droids, often at the highest setting. And I had learned to expand my healing, to some degree because it had physical results. The challenge there had been to maximize the effect while keeping my mental shields firmly in place. When I had discovered swoop racing, it had been a revelation. _This_ was a way to push myself to the limit without endangering anyone but myself. I could use my mental abilities and physical reflexes in tandem; it was the ultimate freedom save battle.

And, I admitted when thinking on it, I had increased the danger factor whenever I could, to keep my interest and the challenge high.

"Maybe," I said finally, looking Atton in the eye. "I'd never thought of it that way, though."

He reached for my hand and kissed the palm. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, you know," he said cheerfully. "And it's perfectly understandable. We have more in common than I'd thought." He winked at me conspiratorially.

"I'm not ashamed," I said firmly, realizing the writhing in my stomach was gone. "Just…surprised at myself, I suppose. I'm so used to analyzing every decision I make that I'm sort of stunned I hadn't come up with your conclusion on my own."

"You do understand the concept of 'unconscious', right?" Atton asked, amused. He grinned as I mock scowled at him. "I for one find your way of dealing awesomely creative. Not to mention sneaky. Here you are, such a lady, seeming so calm and proper, but what really gets you off is cheating death."

"And sex," I said solemnly. "Don't forget that."

"I never do, sweetheart." He gave me his best rogue's grin. "No wonder I fell in love with you."

He grew thoughtful, engaging autopilot and swiveling his seat to face me. I followed suit, wondering what was on his mind now. He was silent for a long moment, obviously choosing his words before speaking. When he did, his voice was gentle.

"That's why you chose Malak, isn't it?"

I stared at him, rather surprised he brought up Mak. "What do you mean?" I asked cautiously.

"Well, I've watched Revan, and how close you two are. She's an amazingly intelligent and passionate woman, not to mention talented and as strong in the Force as you are. If the three of you were that good of friends, I'd assume Malak was, too." Atton watched my face as he spoke, gauging my reaction.

"He was," I nodded, giving him a small smile. I thought I knew now what he was getting at, but let him finish his thought.

"He was powerful, too. Reckless, kept you challenged. So…" he paused, and I nodded encouragingly. "When he approached you, you two were already bonded, even if you didn't really realize that was what was going on. At the same time, he was safe. You loved him, but weren't _in_ love with him, so it wasn't violating your vows. And he couldn't get any closer to you than he already was."

"Yes," I said, remembering. "But he didn't start it. I did."

Atton started visibly, staring at me with his mouth slightly open. He closed it with a nearly audible snap. "Well, that's something I didn't expect. Is it too nosy of me to ask why and how?"

"No," I said, shrugging. "It's sort of a long story, though."

"We appear to have time," Atton peered at the instruments theatrically. "Five hours to Coruscant."

"It won't take that long," I assured him. "Let's get something to eat."

Atton set Gizmo in the cockpit and we made ourselves lunch. As we ate, I talked, my husband listening with interest.

"We'd left the Order to join the Republic," I explained, chewing my sandwich thoughtfully. "About fifty Jedi came with us, more joined later. Revan won over the Chancellor and the military almost immediately, and assigned Malak as her second, me as the third in command."

"Were she and Malak, um, involved?" Atton asked delicately.

"No," I smiled, remembering. "Most people assumed they were, even other Jedi. But they weren't until later."

"When they decided to ally themselves with the Dark Side." Atton observed. It wasn't a question.

I nodded. "By the time I left, it was obvious they had started a sexual relationship. It made sense, even to me at the time. Besides me, they were closest to each other, and had no more rules to follow but their own."

"And that didn't bother you?" Atton asked curiously.

"Of course it did," I looked at him with surprise. "Not that they were sleeping together," I said honestly, "but that they chose each other, and were, to my eyes, slipping into darkness. I was both relieved they weren't dragging me along, and hurt that they didn't include me. Emotionally," I clarified, seeing the look on his face. "I wasn't interested in a sexual triangle of any sort."

"Good to know," he grinned briefly, then frowned. "But it must have been painful."

"It was," I said mildly. "Most things were at that time. The rape just spurred me to go before I was lost, too."

He had nothing to say about that. I was silent for a while, trying to wind the thread of the conversation back to where it had started. Atton waited patiently.

"We had been on campaign for a few months," I said quietly. "Revan had called a meeting with all her generals, and it was late in the day when everyone left. Malak and I shared a shuttle, and he took me to my ship first. We were leaving in two days to hunt a particularly wily Mandalorian general. Not Canderous," I smiled at the question I knew he was about to ask. "I was keyed up, although only Rev or Mak could really see it. He knew the best way for me to relax was to work it out physically and offered to spar."

I looked at my husband carefully, but nothing showed on his face but honest interest and curiosity. I relaxed, and continued my story.

_The workout was exhilarating it always was with Malak. He was strong and quick, but I was quicker. We were about evenly matched. We parried and circled, neither gaining the advantage. He feinted left, but I didn't fall for it and was ready when his 'saber swung around, aiming for my left arm. Blades locked, I swept my foot between his ankles and caught him a solid blow that took him to one knee. He dropped and rolled swiftly, but I followed and had my blade at his throat as he came up._

_He laughed delightedly, snuffing his 'saber and leaping to his feet._

"_I love fighting you, Dree," he swept me into a hug, lifting me off my feet and swinging me around. "You're as much of a challenge as Rev, if not more."_

_He only called me Dree when we were alone. I had confessed years ago that I secretly loved the name, only pretending irritation to goad Annie. Mak, tickled by this minor deception, had immediately taken to calling me Dree in private. He grinned at me now, his arms strong around me and I laughed down into his handsome face._

"_Annie's a better fighter," I admitted. "But she lets her emotions get in the way."_

"_True," he set me down but not moving away. He chuckled, his big hands gripping my upper arms lightly. "That's not something you do often."_

"_No," I agreed and looked up into his brown eyes, expecting the usual teasing light. _

_What I saw made my heart lodge in my throat. Normally, I would have shrugged off his grip with a laugh of my own, but I stood there, unable to make my feet move. Something was different about the look on his face. I recognized it from other men that had wanted me in their bed._

_Malak's smile grew a trifle uncertain, and I stared back, suddenly uneasy. My usual reaction to that sort of look was to retreat, give him my best cold stare and the opportunity to back off. What shocked me was my own sudden stirrings of desire. I had felt it before, of course; I was eighteen, healthy, and at least intellectually aware of hormonal factors. Always before, it had been easy to ignore, to dismiss the attraction and freeze him out. Fear of losing control and inadvertently influencing another kept me from giving in._

_But…this was _Mak.

_I knew him so well I could hear his thoughts clearly if I tuned in. I didn't now, mostly because I was afraid of what I'd hear. And how I might react. There was a heartbeat of time where we regarded each other with new eyes. In that moment, I was certain he was going to kiss me._

_All this passed in an instant; the pause couldn't have been more than a second or two. Masking my confusion, I swiftly moved out of reach, feigning a cramp in my sword arm and looking for a towel to wipe my face. Grabbing one, I mopped away the sweat that was from more than simple physical exertion. I felt more than heard him sigh and snag a cloth from a nearby shelf to pat his face. When I was composed, I turned to face him. He was looking at me thoughtfully, a slight frown marring his rugged features._

"_Feel better?" he asked, watching me carefully. His tone said he was asking if the workout had eased my tension; his eyes said something else._

"_Yes," I lied, matching his casual tone. "Thanks." I smiled, friendly and open, using the lie to hide my turmoil. It wouldn't have fooled Revan, but Malak wasn't quite as in tune with me._

_It worked. He smiled back, the moment passed, and he was simply my friend again, so completely I wondered if I had imagined the whole thing._

_So why didn't I feel relieved?_

_With a supreme effort of will, I reigned in my unruly thoughts and allowed him to escort me to my quarters. He left with his usual peck on the cheek and jaunty wave over his shoulder, striding tall and confident down the hall toward the shuttle bay._

_I got ready for bed, and meditated, trying to calm my mind and compose myself for sleep. I had a lot to do the next day to prepare for the mission. When I felt sufficiently centered, I changed gears and spent a good fifteen minutes mentally focused on prioritizing tasks and what to delegate to whom. As always, this exercise was soothing to me, a mental tidying that allowed me to rest easy._

_But when I slipped under the cool sheets and closed my eyes, all I could see was Malak. Vexed with myself, I rolled onto my stomach, pummeling my pillow into a ball._

Okay,_ I thought as calmly as I could manage, _what, exactly, happened? Nothing. He looked at me, that's all. He likes women, and I am one. It was a fluke. He probably was shocked when he realized it was _me_ he was thinking like that about. Or, even more likely, has already forgotten all about it. I could ask him right now what he was thinking in that moment, and he would honestly have no idea what I was talking about.

_Try as I might, I couldn't really believe it._

_He was a part of me, like a brother, but more complicated than that. I wasn't in love with him; that much I knew. But he was closer to me than anyone but Revan, and loved me unconditionally. As I did him. I'd never considered he might be attracted to me, or I to him. I had suppressed my sexuality with a clear-headed prudence; I understood the dangers of letting people too close, if not the reason. The Masters had been relentless in pointing out my effect on the unwary._

_I knew Malak wasn't a virgin, or for that matter, neither was Revan. As close as we were, I had actually felt both of them the first time they'd had sexual relations, before I managed to block my unintentional intrusion. Revan had been seventeen, with another Knight who was a close friend; Mak sixteen, with a barmaid at a seedy cantina that was expressly forbidden to Padawan. _

Typical of him_, I thought cynically, trying to put things into perspective. _Impulsive and rebellious.

_It didn't work. My mind started presenting me with images of what some of his impulses might do for me. I shoved them aside savagely and bullied my thoughts into submission._

_I had, rather unwisely, told Revan what I knew. We were both fifteen at the time and I had been blindsided by the sensations I had unwillingly witnessed. Revan was the only one I trusted to sort out what I had seen and felt. Far more worldly than me on such matters, she had helped me come to grips with it, then teased Malak without revealing her source until he confessed. When she had entered the realm of earthy pleasures, I was more prepared and feigned ignorance until she had told me herself. Mak had suspected her initiation, but never questioned either of us._

_Even in my youth, I understood that what Revan, Malak and I shared was different and special, and not something I should risk with anyone else. So while my two closest friends could explore their own sexuality with caution, I kept myself apart. Whatever natural curiosity I had I either suppressed or explored entirely second hand, confining myself to occasional confidences with my two best friends. The idea of sharing myself physically with anyone I had dismissed as too risky._

Until now_, I admitted to myself with a sigh._

_Giving up the idea of sleep, I sat up, drawing my legs to my chest and clasping my arms around them, resting my chin on my knees. I examined the situation with all the cold logic I could muster._

All right, _I thought calmly. _He looked at me, and I looked back. It doesn't have to mean anything. He's fairly experienced, and we're about to go into battle. Natural that he might think about relieving some of that stress with sex. I was there, and I know he hasn't had a woman in some time.

_This was one of the more uncomfortable side effects of being close to Revan and Malak. While I had much more control over unwanted mental sharing than I did three years ago, I still caught snippets of private moments. Revan understood better and was able more often than not to block inadvertent intrusion. It helped that while passionate and uninhibited, she possessed a practical streak; she wasn't one to indulge herself indiscriminately. Malak, more reckless and less aware of how deep our ties ran, wasn't as careful mentally. I was glad he was more discrete than his often imprudent nature would suggest; as far as I knew he was experienced, but not a complete degenerate. He liked women a great deal, but hadn't, to be blunt, slept with every willing woman he'd come across._

_That inexplicably cheered me. I chose not to examine why too closely._

_I knew Malak would never deliberately hurt me, and his experience would at least ensure any sexual congress wouldn't be unpleasant. And I could trust that he wouldn't be hurt by me; we were already close enough that sex wasn't likely to bind us together any more than we already were. It would be nothing more than pleasure between friends, and neither of us would betray our vows, or become too attached._

He's safe, _I thought with an attempt at clinical reason. _I can experience sexual pleasure with someone I trust, someone that I know I won't hurt.

_Reason wasn't helping. While I remained perfectly still, inside I was writhing with suppressed desire and confusion. The plain and simple truth was I wanted him. I hadn't really wanted _anyone_ before and the feeling was both wonderful and terrifying._

_Without stopping to think about what I was doing, I got up and dressed. Ten minutes later I was in my personal shuttle flying towards Malak's ship. Reason was now a distant memory, and I refused to think about possible rejection. I really wasn't thinking about anything at all except to see Malak and find out if that look had been real._

_If the lieutenant on duty was surprised that General Windbreak was approaching his ship at nearly midnight, he didn't show it. I was greeted with respectful courtesy and rejected offers of escort with self-depreciating charm._

"_You don't need to announce me," I assured him. "General Malak is expecting me."_

_When I reached Malak's quarters, I stopped, heart thumping painfully. What the _Force_ was I doing? I took a deep breath and punched the door comm._

_It was only a matter of moments when Malak opened the door, tying his robe and glowering._

"_Dammit, Hobble, my comm works," he growled, then stopped short at the sight of me standing there. "Dree?" he said, eyebrows drawing together in puzzlement. "What's wrong? What are you doing here?"_

"_I…" I stared, any self-possession I had dribbling around my feet. "I'm sorry," I whispered, and turned to leave._

_His hand shot out to grasp my arm, spinning me to look at him. "What's going on here, Dree?" he demanded. I could feel his irritation like buzzing insects in my head._

"_I'm sorry," I said again. "I didn't mean to wake you. I just…" my voice failed me and I looked at my boots. I felt him go still, and the buzzing stop._

"_What?" his voice was gentle, and it gave me courage to look up._

_His warm brown eyes were puzzled, full of concern for his obviously newly insane best friend. "Are you okay?" he asked softly._

"_I don't know," I said honestly. "I just…needed to see you."_

"_Okay…," he said, half a question. I had nothing to offer back, and he shrugged, stepped aside and let go of my arm. I followed him into his quarters._

"_I wasn't asleep," he assured me, offering me a seat. I accepted, gratefully allowing my trembling knees some relief. "I was just about to have a drink before bed. Join me?"_

"_Thank you," I was relived that my voice was steady._

_He disappeared into the small kitchen in one corner of the great room. His private rooms were nearly identical to mine, I saw, looking around. A large open concept, one corner devoted to workspace with a desk, shelving and file cabinets, a dining area near the large window, kitchen in another corner, and a sitting area apart from the rest. No holofire, though, just a vast expanse of wall dotted with shelves and a large holovid screen taking up most of the space._

_I was distracting myself, and knew it. I breathed deeply, trying to regain my calm. Before I had a chance to center myself, Malak reappeared with two glasses of wine in hand. Handing one to me, he seated himself on the other end of the long couch I was occupying._

"_It's not like you to show up out of the blue, Dree," Malak said quietly as I sipped my wine. "What's wrong?"_

"_Nothing," I said automatically. "I just…was thinking too much, I guess."_

_I was starting to feel foolish, and wanted nothing more than to get out of here. Whatever I had thought, it was obviously wrong. I must have misunderstood the look he'd given me in the gym. Nothing showed in his manner now beyond honest concern for a good friend. _

Well,_ I thought with a grim attempt at optimism, _at least Mak is usually kind to me. If he ever figures out what I was thinking, he won't humiliate me by teasing me about it forever, like he would Revan.

_The thought of telling Annie about the whole debacle made me writhe inside, but I knew she'd sense something if I didn't bury it deep enough. Regardless, I was going to have a sleepless night, alone with my self inflicted humiliation. I was tempted to make an excuse to stay, but knew it would be infinitely worse to have Mak a room away when I had come here to seduce him. Better to get out now with some dignity intact. I finished my wine, set the glass carefully on a side table, and stood._

"_I'm sorry," I said for the third time. "I couldn't sleep, and thought I needed…to talk," I straightened my back and started to head toward the door. "It's going to be a busy day tomorrow; I should go." I moved as quickly as I could without looking like I was running away._

"_Wait, Dree…" I heard the clink of his wine glass being set on the table and rapid footsteps, muffled by the thick carpet. I didn't turn around, afraid what he'd see on my face._

_I was almost halfway there when he caught up with me. He blocked my path, gazing down into my eyes, I saw in wonder, with the same expression he'd had earlier. I stopped, meeting his stare, eyes wide. For a long moment, we were locked in silent communication. Then, not knowing what I intended until I started, I reached up and touched his cheek._

_He leaned against the pressure of my palm, almost rubbing his skin against mine. His eyes closed briefly, and his mouth curved into a small, almost sweet smile. I stood on tiptoe and was a little amazed when he met me halfway._

_His lips were soft and warm, and moved with infinite care against mine. When I didn't move away, he groaned softly and pulled me closer, angling his head to possess my mouth fully. He kissed me long and deep, teasing my lips with his tongue until they parted. One hand moved slowly from my waist to the back of my head, an anchor rooted in the mass of my hair, steadying me against the dizzying sensations coursing through my body. I heard a moan and dimly realized it came from me._

_Malak pulled away slowly, and I would have followed if he hadn't held me so firmly. His dark eyes held mine, smoldering with heat held barely in check._

"_Dree," he breathed, staring intently at my face. "I…" he swallowed, then said softly, "Is this really what you want?"_

"_Yes," I answered. There was so much more I wanted to say, but I couldn't find the words. I stared up at him, mute with desire and a longing I didn't really understand._

"_Oh gods," he groaned, kissing my nose, my chin, my eyelids and finally my lips, increasing the pressure until I thought my knees would collapse. "I hope you don't hate me in the morning."_

"_Never," I think I said, but was too caught up in the taste of him to know if I had said it aloud._

_His breath was sweet, tasting of wine and faintly of mint. His mouth was tender yet possessive, nibbling my lips at the corners, pressing tiny kisses along my jaw. When he took my mouth again, I felt my knees quiver, from desire or nervousness, I couldn't tell. I began to tremble and felt him go quite still. His hands moved to cradle my face and he gently tilted my head to look him in the eye._

"_Ladria," his voice was almost a whisper. He so rarely called me by my full name; usually it was a teasing nickname or, of course, Dree when Revan wasn't around. The serious tone now sent a shiver down my spine. "I have to give you another chance to say no. I love you too much to take advantage."_

_He was absolutely serious, and I was completely stunned. The reckless, impulsive scrapegrace I knew and loved was giving me an out, trying to think this all the way through. I melted, all nervousness forgotten for the moment._

"_I'm sure," I said softly. "Unless…" something occurred to me and I lowered my lashes to veil my eyes. "Unless you don't want me?" It came out a pathetic little plea and I wanted to bite my tongue._

_His rich laughter made my eyes fly open and I started to pull away. He caught me back to him easily, kissing my nose first, followed by each cheekbone, my eyes, forehead, chin, and lastly my mouth with such tender fierceness I moaned again._

"_Not want you?" he asked incredulously after reducing me to a puddle of jelly. "I've wanted you since you were thirteen years old, and I was a gangly fourteen without a clue."_

"_You were never gangly," I said, grinning. "And I'll let you know when you actually get a clue."_

"_Now that's my Dree," he approved. "Always putting me in my place."_

"_Someone has to," I said, gasping as he bent his head and nuzzled my neck._

"_It's my turn," he murmured in my ear, "to turn the tables. If you're sure." He looked down at me again anxiously._

"_I am," I said, and this time _I _kissed _him.

_I was woefully inexperienced, and knew it. I had spent my life avoiding even casual touch, except with a very few trusted friends. He stood very still and let me explore his mouth, responding to my tentative movements with gentle encouragement. A sound not unlike a deep purr escaped his throat and his arms tightened around me. I found myself lifted off my feet and being carried into his bedchamber, his step sure and steady, his mouth never leaving mine._

_Setting me carefully on the bed, he helped me out of my boots, returning to my mouth swiftly after. Each bit of clothing was removed with exquisite care, followed by kisses and loving touches. I forgot my nervousness, my utter lack of experience, or anything except his presence and the sensations he was creating. Whispered encouragement and occasional instruction increased my confidence until I was exploring him almost as boldly as he was me. With all the tenderness and skill he had, he patiently and slowly brought me to a state of intense arousal. And when we were finally joined together, as close as two people could be, I found that my greatest fear, total loss of control and possible destruction, was nothing more than a child's shadow monster. Safe in Malak's arms, I lost myself in him, and he in me, and the world didn't end._

_It had just begun._

When I finished my story, rather more edited than my memories, Atton sat thoughtfully, tracing a finger through the crumbs of his sandwich. The slight frown on his face relieved me; it meant he didn't mind sharing what he was feeling, rather than the blank look he gets when he's hiding. I looked at him clinically, seeing the familiar lines of his face in a way I hadn't before. Malak and Atton had very similar features and coloring, excepting the fact that Atton actually had hair. I wondered what that said about me and decided that while I didn't believe in coincidences, the Force being what it was, perhaps it had been helping me all along to recognize my place when the time came.

"You loved him," Atton said quietly, interrupting my thoughts.

"Yes," I nodded. "You knew that already."

"I'm glad he was good to you," his voice was subdued, and I looked at him sharply.

"Atton," I scolded, "you can't possibly be jealous of someone who died long before Revan finally killed him. Even if he had lived and been redeemed, what we had was broken. I couldn't have gone back to the way it was, or tried to make it more than it had been before."

"Not jealous, really," my husband said, shrugging. "It just…it was easier hating him. I really don't want to feel sorry for him."

"You don't have to," I said firmly. "You never even met him, there's no reason for you to feel any way about him at all."

Atton looked at me sideways. "Actually, I did know him," he said very quietly. "He was the one that gave me most of my assignments. Darth Revan's second, you see."

I stared, completely nonplussed. I don't know why I was surprised. That Atton had interacted with my old friend was something I should have considered likely. Jaq Atrand had been a highly skilled and trusted hunter, after all. And Malak had always sought the best.

Like he had wanted me, I considered. I might have made the first move as far as our sexual relationship went, but he had told me the only reason he hadn't pursued me to begin with was that Revan had threatened to castrate him if he laid a hand on me uninvited. That, and he honestly had loved me enough at the time that he wasn't interested in simple seduction. He wanted it all.

Of course, like anything associated with Malak, that wasn't simple in the slightest. "All" to his mind wasn't success in a career, love, marriage, and fat babies. It was winning the war, proving to the Council they were wrong, re-entering the Jedi Order in triumph, and having one of the youngest and most powerful Masters in history more or less permanently in his bed. He loved me, oh yes, but marriage and family was not on his mind. Nor mine, for that matter. It appealed to him that I had few choices of sexual partners, certainly; he had always had a healthy ego and didn't particularly like to share.

Malak was very pleased with himself to have attracted me, and anxious to keep me happy lest I lose interest. Better than anyone, he knew my strength of will; if I decided the arrangement wasn't working, I was likely to simply remain celibate. That, of course, had far more appeal to Mak than me moving on to another partner. But he wasn't a selfish oaf. He wanted what was best for me more than his own pleasure; that I was sure of.

After that first night, our relationship changed very subtly. Revan knew immediately we had become sexually involved; neither of us had bothered to deny it. Beyond cautioning Malak to take care not to toy with me or he'd answer to her, and me to be careful, she approved, then proceeded to behave not one bit different toward us. Malak continued to treat me as his beloved best friend in public, but there was a new intensity in private.

I was using the distraction of memory to cope with the minor bombshell Atton had dropped. With an effort, I mentally put my former lover and current husband in the same room and found that it was far easier than was comfortable. They had both been in the clutches of the Dark Side at the time, of course. It occurred to me how ruthless both of them really were. Focused, determined, and driven by demons not necessarily of their own making. Charming, handsome, practiced and attractive to women, a tendency towards recklessness, instinctive and strong in the Force. Yes, there were many similarities. Mak had been a gifted pilot, too.

"Why didn't you mention this before?" I asked curiously.

"There never seemed a good time to bring it up," Atton gazed at me steadily, brown eyes troubled and a little wary. "You have to admit there's always been way too much drama whenever Malak was in the conversation."

"I suppose so," I nodded soberly.

"I realize when I knew Malak was well after he'd crossed that line," Atton's voice was matter-of-fact. "And I only met him face to face maybe a dozen times. Our conversations weren't exactly personal. He was…unbelievably scary." There was a flash of dimple and self-depreciating grimace. "You know?"

"I have some small idea," I said dryly.

"I was useful," Atton sat back in his chair, clasping his hands behind his head and eyeing me cautiously. I suddenly realized he was as worried about my reaction to talking about _his_ time on the Dark Side as Malak's. I shifted so that he could see my eyes clearly and touched his face. He dropped his hands and reached for mine, clinging to them like a lifeline. "Lord Malak admired me; he told me I was the best hunter he knew. But I never fooled myself that he would have any mercy if I failed. He didn't care about me at all; I was a tool, no more, one that was occasionally amusing and smart enough not to curry favor. The power in him buzzed in my head like wasps. Not much frightened me by then. He did. Not as badly as Revan, though." he added as an afterthought.

"And here I am talking about him with affection, even after all he did to me," I said softly. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Atton smiled, genuinely this time, and kissed my forehead. "It's just that I can't see that powerful, melt-your-brain-with-a-look Sith Lord I knew as the considerate lover you remember. Makes my head hurt."

"Well," I said in practical tones, "there's lots of ways to deal with a headache." I scooted closer and nibbled on his ear. Smiling at his sigh of pleasure, I added, "We still have three and a half hours until we hit Coruscant."

"Not a lot of time," Atton observed, sliding out from the table and offering his hand. I stood, and he scooped me close against his chest. "But I'm very efficient."

I looked up and giggled. "That's an odd thing to say. It hardly sounds complimentary."

"Oh it is," he assured me. "I'm very good with engine efficiency. I just apply the same principal to sex. Maximum sensation; minimum time. Simple." Proving his point, he had me a quivering mess in less than ten seconds.

"Excellent example," I teased, rallying. "Want to prove your hypothesis?"

"No," he said promptly. "I'd rather just keep experimenting."


	30. Honeymoon's Over

Author's note: I apologize deeply for taking so long to update, and then posting a rather shorter chapter than usual. Thank you everyone for hanging in there and not burning me in effigy for being away so long. I'll do my absolute best not to take so long to post again.

Always, LJ

* * *

Coruscant hadn't changed perceptively in the last ten years. One massive city from horizon to horizon, the only untouched natural feature were the twin Manarai mountains. Even the Western Sea was artificial. The city was teeming with activity, never still, never quiet, always brightly lit. It took some getting used to if you haven't spent much time in large cities. As capital of the Republic, Coruscant was home to military headquarters, the Senate, and, of course, the Jedi Temple.

I had spent most of my childhood here, moving from the Dantooine conclave just before my third birthday. I don't really remember Dantooine as a child; the Masters told me they had found me there, but I was too young to have any real recollection. Revan and I had both been transferred to Coruscant as younglings. At the time, I hadn't known why. Looking back, I understood now that it was because the Council was housed in the headquarters of the Order, and they had wanted to keep an eye on us. Both Revan and I had shown unusual promise, as had Malak, who had been brought to Coruscant when he had been little more than an infant.

Atton had expertly guided the Sphinx into one of the many hangers on the temple grounds. Unsurprisingly, we were not greeted when we landed; there were so few Jedi left many courtesies and traditions were simply dropped. We grabbed our bags and made our way to the temple proper. Master Jerrel met us at the entrance, clasping my hands and kissing both my cheeks formally, repeating the gesture with Atton.

"Ah, Chairman Rand, Atton, so good to see you. I trust your honeymoon was pleasant?"

Jerrel beamed at the pair of us, and I basked in the glow that had struck my heart by being addressed as "Rand". I hadn't really thought of myself with a new name yet, but Jerrel, so correct in even these changing times, obviously had. I smiled warmly.

"Yes, thank you, Master Jerrel. Have the others arrived yet?" I glanced around, as if expecting my former Padawan to pop out of the woodwork.

"General Revan is expected within the hour," Jerrel reported. "Dustil Onasi is on his way as well. Will Cantor has already arrived, and a contingent from Dxun is landing now." He waved vaguely in the direction of the hangars. "The rest of the Order is present."

"Excellent. Please let everyone know there will be a meeting tomorrow morning in the Council chambers, 08:00." I debated greeting the Dxun party, or seeking out our chambers and unpacking. Atton, without a glance at me, decided for us by the simple expediency of turning on his heel and heading back the way we came. With a wave over my shoulder at Jerrel, I hurried after my husband.

It was wonderful seeing everyone, although it had of course only been two weeks and I would have happily extended my honeymoon by a month or more. I was unsurprised to see Jennet among the party, only a little that Canderous was with her, and quite shocked that Helen was not with them.

"Canderous will be hopping back and forth between Coruscant and Dxun," Jennet said to me cheerfully enough, but I saw she seemed faintly anxious with her child so far away. "So will I, for that matter. He promises he'll bring Helen and Lorna next trip. I need to train with Revan for a while, and it's easier for her to do that here, rather than drag Carth and the rest of the Order to Dxun."

"Lorna will take excellent care of Helen," I soothed. "How are you recovering?"

He face brightened. "It's amazing how fast I'm getting my rhythm back, and physically Mical says I'm in top shape. I've been exercising and training every day since the day after your wedding. I've beaten every one of the honor guard in the battle circle," she bragged. "Still can't take Canderous yet, though. Amazing what four months of not being able to move will do to you," she grimaced self-depreciatingly. "But enough about me, how was the honeymoon?" she leaned forward eagerly, glancing over at Atton, who was helping grab bags and laughing with Mira.

"Wonderful," I said, not able to keep the dreamy tone out of my voice or looking at him myself. Jennet nudged me playfully.

"It's even better when you're married, isn't it?" she asked, eye sparkling.

I just smiled and she laughed.

The rest of the day was spent getting everyone settled. I also spent time looking over the reports of the last two weeks. I was pleased that although Stefan had taken a week after the wedding to take care of some mysterious business of his own, he, Quatz and Jerrel had not been idle. Dustil and Will were both mustered out of the Republic Fleet, Quatz using his influence to see to it that all the admiral's son had to do was spend a day turning in his military issue weaponry and sign a few datapads. Will had insisted on taking care of his resignation mostly on his own, only requiring the Order to vouch for his reasons. Carth had added his own letters of recommendation to his son's and Will's discharge paperwork, and everything had gone smoothly. I had already had an audience with my new Padawan and informed him that his training would begin in earnest as of tomorrow.

In addition, many of the preparations for the upcoming mission had been carried out. Carth had taken care of his part with his ship the Eternity, and arranged for the warship Draconia that Canderous would command to be sent to Dxun in six weeks. The Mandalorians that would accompany him and Jennet would have time to adjust to shipboard life before haring off into the Unknown Regions. The Eternity would carry the Sphinx as well, as I would be on board with Carth and Will, along with Bao Dur, Jolee and Dustil. Visas and Mira would accompany Canderous and Jennet.

During the next six weeks, Mical and Stefan would be heading to Telos to recover the holocrons. Barring any complications, they should be back in time for the mission.

The meeting the next day was a simple catch-up and a restating of the mission. It took little time, and questions were not plentiful. Less than an hour later, Revan, Jolee and myself had retreated to training rooms to work with our Padawan. Jennet was a Knight, of course, but would be participating in most of the basic training, filling in gaps of her original instruction.

I wondered why her parents, both powerful in the Force, had concentrated so completely on healing and combat without including other, more subtle abilities. She could sense others strong in the Force and see auras, block mind manipulation and her own Force sensitivity from others, but did not appear to know how to consciously tune in to or manipulate other's thoughts. She was adept at resisting Force powers used against her in general. However, she had no idea how to use the Force to create a stasis field, push away an enemy, destroy a droid, or manipulate physical objects with her mind. Her thought sharing with Canderous was Force based, I was certain, but she did not seem to be able to share with anyone else, except when in battle. Even then, it was more of an extension of Mandalorian battle ecstasy than purely Force driven.

When questioned on this, Jennet shrugged. "My parents didn't want me to be Jedi under the old rules," she said. "If I could do everything a Jedi can, they were afraid I'd register with someone and the Order would find me. So they just concentrated on what I was best at; healing and fighting. Later, I didn't have any need or even want to learn anything else. Stefan tried to convince me to learn other things, but I wouldn't let him teach me."

"Well, you need to learn at least some of it now," Revan told her sternly.

Jennet grinned. "Yes, Master Onasi."

"It's Master Revan," Annie informed her with a credible scowl. "Really, you'd think you'd at least learned how to address a Jedi properly."

"Why should I have?" Jennet countered impudently. "I had no use for the Order, and they didn't ever find me."

"You," Revan said crisply, "are going to be trouble."

"Oh no," Jennet said sincerely, "I don't make trouble; it just finds me."

"That's true," I heard Canderous mutter and I stifled a laugh.

* * *

Revan was having a hard time keeping up with her husband. Three days into training and he'd been learning fast. In addition, somewhere along the way he had learned a trick that increased his reflexes amazingly. They had been excellent to begin with; sparring with him now he got in more blows, and avoided just as many, than she had expected. She was still faster, thank the Force, or her entire body would be sore and bruised. She could heal herself, but it still hurt in the meantime.

"When did you get so damn quick?" she grumbled as they broke off for a much needed water break.

He shrugged. "Jennet taught me a few pointers when I was negotiating with Canderous. She's been holding training classes whenever she can to anyone who's interested. Jarxel and Canderous took over when she got too big to demonstrate, I understand," he added.

"She's teaching Force connection to Mandalorians?" Revan asked, startled.

"No," Carth shook his head while wiping his face with a towel, patting sweat away from his eyes. "It's not the Force, it's more…a state of mind, is how she put it. Hyper-awareness. I've heard her refer to is as 'slowed sight'."

"Ah," Revan nodded. "I understand now. You must have been practicing; you're amazingly fast."

"For a guy my age?" he joked.

"Any age," she assured him.

"I caught on quick," he said, not a trace of bravado in his voice. "I started sparring regularly with Will these last few months; turns out he's had extensive hand to hand combat training and already had learned something of the technique elsewhere. He's kept me on my toes."

Revan gave him a smile. She wasn't about to give him any slack simply because he was her husband; that would do neither of them any favors. But she couldn't help being especially proud of him. He'd celebrated his forty-eighth birthday not long before her return, and he could easily keep up physically with Dustil. Plus, the mental exercises were progressing excellently. His only real trouble seemed to be trusting his own ability in the Force; he was still a bit bemused that he was Force sensitive to begin with and tended to deny his own power. Naturally, this is where she pushed him hardest.

Revan had sent Jennet to practice the new skills that had been introduced to the young Knight. She and Dustil were currently with Jolee being mercilessly lectured and drilled by the gruff Master. Jolee was delighted to work with Jennet and took especial pleasure in making her life if not miserable, at least difficult. Fortunately, Jennet was made of stern stuff and took no offense at the acerbic Master and his running commentary of her many failings. Making a new recruit angry was a necessary process; in order to combat the path to the Dark Side, they need to learn to control their rage. Serenity was something all Jedi learned; it was the first lesson taught. Jolee had a huge talent for pissing off anyone he set his mind on.

So far, Jennet had held up well, only snapping occasionally at Jolee or Revan. Dustil had inherited his father's calm demeanor; it was driving Jolee insane to get the youngest Onasi to lose his cool.

And to be fair, it was starting to bother Revan too. Not about Dustil; she knew he was in good hands and would learn his lessons with the same single minded intensity of his father. But try as she might, she couldn't break through Carth's serene center. He was the perfect Padawan; calm, accepting, following her lead no matter what. He rarely questioned her and that, she admitted, was the real problem. She had no intention of training an unthinking robot; she was aiming for a confident Jedi that thought for himself.

"Put this on," she ordered, handing him a helm that had the face shield deliberately painted over. She handed him a light saber as well. "I'm releasing practice droids; find and eliminate the targets."

As usual, he didn't question her, merely put on the helm and stilled. With a sigh, she punched the button and four miniature droids emerged from the box that was in the middle of the practice area. She could tell by his pose he was listening, not trying to use the Force.

"Listen, yes, but try to visualize them," she called. His face was blocked, of course, but she could imagine it tighten in concentration.

One flew nearly silently near Carth's left arm; he got his 'saber up but too late; he flinched and swore when the energy bolt stung him. The other three moved to join the attack and he blocked only one.

"Shit!" Carth snarled as he took hits to his side, shoulder and right arm.

Revan smiled.

* * *

"Very good," I said to Will, who was balanced on his hands with perfect concentration. "Now take your right arm and hold it straight out from your body."

His concentration almost trancelike, he lifted his right hand off the mat and did as I instructed, taking his full weight on his left arm. I was amazed at his ability; most Padawan take a few tries before they can do this.

I ran him through some more drills, each a tiny step further along than the last and while he was a little rough when it came to using his mind in tandem with his body, he was progressing very well. He'd mastered stasis shockingly quickly and could move small objects while in any awkward pose I ordered. I'd compared notes with Revan and Jolee and discovered that both Will and Carth had about the same problem – trusting their own connection with the Force. Dustil, no doubt due to his early training with the Sith, had no issue with this. His problem lay in control – he was very open to the Force and tended to swat a fly with a cannon.

Complimenting Will on his progress, I dismissed him for the day and made my way back to my office, mentally tallying the work I needed to accomplish before dinner. The enclave is a huge building, and I had ample time for reflection. Work time outlined, I returned to contemplating the accomplishments of the newest Padawan.

Jennet had both control and an easy relationship with the Force; she had in the last few weeks made the most progress, to no one's surprise. Stasis came easily; moving objects mentally, especially "calling" her 'sabers to her from a distance or throwing them with deadly accuracy, she had down in a matter of hours. She seemed to have a bit of a block when it came to intruding on other's thoughts, however. Considering she lived with Canderous in her head more or less constantly, I could understand why she didn't want to add to her mental conversations. She had in the past confided her telepathic abilities to sensing mood and intent, rather than manipulation. Jolee took great delight in baiting her to push herself to read his thoughts, laughing uproariously when he deliberately chose something either bawdy or teasingly uncomplimentary for her to hear. Jennet spent a good deal of time pink with embarrassment or irritation, but was good humored enough to shrug it off.

Jolee wisely didn't push her too hard to lose her temper; her past history had already proved she could function without temptation of falling to the Dark Side while angry. I pointed out her encounter with the Hutt when Canderous had gotten his throat cut to illustrate this and both Revan and Jolee agreed Jennet needed little real training in that regard. She had been nearly beyond thought during that encounter and had almost died because she had spent all her healing on Canderous and hadn't realized she had been wounded badly herself; it was a lesson she had learned well. Of them all, Jennet worked best with pure instinct; something she shared with Atton and Revan. It might make them reckless, but I'd noticed that the three of them rarely were seriously wounded.

One area Jennet didn't seem to have any affinity for at all was incapacitating mechanical objects using the Force. She simply could not summon the right sort of energy to short out droids or computers. She had above average hacking skills and a layman's knowledge of engineering, but no feel for it. After a frustrating three days of working on this with Jolee, Revan, myself, and Bao Dur, who naturally had almost an eerie ability to both build and destroy anything mechanical, we came to the conclusion that this was a skill she would never master.

Will, I was discovering, had a natural talent for this. Dustil, however, seemed only moderately skilled; of them all, he seemed the most balanced in his abilities. So far, he was neither wildly brilliant nor incompetent; he had a solid grasp of everything he was taught, performed with deft skill but no outstanding talent in any particular arena. His strength was using the various abilities he was rapidly mastering in unexpected and effective ways. Besides Jennet, Dustil could most easily slip back and forth from physical to mental and back again, one moment blocking a shot from a practice droid with his 'saber, the next shorting it out with the Force, turning to block yet another shot so smoothly that there was hardly a pause. Jolee was pleased with his Padawan.

After a half hour of immersing myself in paperwork, Revan stalked into my office unannounced, sighed heavily and dropped into the chair across from my desk with a pointed thud. I didn't look up from the report I was skimming right away, but felt her hazel gaze boring into the crown of my head. I let her stew a moment. It never does to leap to attention with her, particularly when you're in a position of authority. I looked up with a leisurely smile.

"Problems?" I asked sweetly.

She scowled. "He's driving me crazy, Dree."

I didn't bother to ask who she meant; only a husband could push her buttons like this. The tension was contained, but I could feel her irritation like a low grade electric current. I smiled wider.

"So the honeymoon's over, hm?" I asked mildly, setting aside that report after adding my signature. I picked up another datapad and sat back, watching her under my lowered lashes. Her scowl mutated into a glower.

"I'm having a crisis. The least you can do is pay attention," she snapped.

"Carth is progressing beautifully," I offered cheerfully. "I see no problems so far." I quickly read over the report, signed it, and reached for another.

Revan leaped up, swept the datapads off my desk with a lightning swoop of her arm, planted her hands on the desktop and shoved her face at me so we were nearly nose to nose.

"I can't work with him," she snarled.

"Oh? Why not?" I surveyed her agitation calmly. "Do pick those up, Annie, I have a lot of work to do."

She met my serene gaze with a ferocious glare, but I stared her down and she dropped her eyes with a deep sigh, temper abruptly dissipating. Backing away, she bent and gathered up the scattered datapads, placing them in a neat stack near my elbow.

"Sorry," she said, turning to pace around the office. "I just don't know what to do."

"What's the problem?" I asked, having an idea but knowing it was better to allow her to voice it herself.

"Nothing," she mumbled, turning abruptly on her heel and facing me.

"Say again?" I asked, amused.

"Nothing," she repeated clearly. "He's perfect. He's learning everything faster than most, taking every criticism, performing every task, however puzzling, unfamiliar, awkward, or illogical. I want to kill him," she added almost thoughtfully.

"Sounds like a hanging offense at least," I agreed gravely, eyes twinkling.

"You don't understand," Annie scowled again. "He won't…he's not…damn it, he's doing everything _right_."

"And this vexes you?" I asked, reining in my impulse to laugh.

"He won't fight me," Revan said, sitting down again and crossing her arms. "He doesn't question me much, and I can't get him angry."

"Can Jolee?" I asked curiously.

"No," Annie frowned. "I know how even tempered he is, but he used to get frustrated with me all the time. Now…I can't even get him to question anything I order him to do."

"How about when you're not training?" I asked quietly.

She looked at me in surprise, then slowly nodded. "Nothing's changed there," she admitted. She stood again, pacing around the room like a caged Kath hound. "Was it this difficult to train Atton?" she asked abruptly.

"Well," I said slowly, "no. But then, he was pretty much trained before we became involved. I mean, yes, I continued training him after that, and the others…more often than not I was working with at least two at once, if not all five. So we rarely had one-on-one instruction."

"Did his attitude toward you as his Master change?" Revan demanded.

"Not really," I shrugged. "But we only had about two months before I left to find you," I pointed out. "We trained, yes, but his initial instruction was pretty much complete. Annie," I said quietly, "you don't need me to tell you what's going on here. He's overcompensating for the fact you're his wife _and_ Master. And so are you."

"I've never trained a Padawan before," Annie said, looking suddenly vulnerable. "I don't know what I'm doing at _all_. And I thought it was a good idea to train my own husband? What was I thinking?"

I leaned on my elbows, catching Annie's eye and holding it. I smiled, reaching out for her hand, and she took it, clutching it hard. "You were thinking that five years was a long enough separation, and you didn't want to be without him," I said gently. "Who could blame you? Besides, of everyone I know, you are the best at compartmentalizing things. I don't think this is mostly you."

"Maybe not," she squeezed my hand and let go, resuming her pacing. "I've done everything I can think of short of tossing him off the enclave's cliff to get him angry or question me, and nothing's worked. I've been a bigger bitch than usual, trying to get a rise out of him, and _nothing_. I can feel occasional flashes of irritation, but I can't get him to show it. You know, that cliff's starting to sound good." She scowled again, initial temper growing.

I gave her my best commander's look. "Stow it, Annie," I said sternly. "You're inexperienced as a Jedi trainer, but have loads of experience training troops. It's not much different, and you know it. If Carth's getting irritated with you, it'll eventually come out. But," I said as a thought struck me, "I can take over his training for a few days if you like. All of us have had a hand in, anyway, and the Council _did_ want me to be involved with his training in particular."

"Then what would I do?" Annie looked equal parts relieved and irritated. "Train Will?"

"If you like," I said cheerfully. "But I was thinking more along the lines of working with Atton and Mission. Brainstorming, you know. Or maybe," I said gently, "just giving yourself a break. You're going to be separated from Carth for a while, right after you're married. Do you really want to spend all your time leading up to it trying to get him mad at you?"

"He's _my_ Padawan," Revan snapped. "_My_ responsibility. I can't just hand him over because it's a little more challenging than I had anticipated."

I sighed, sitting back in my chair and eyeing her soberly. "Annie, you really are a pain in the ass."

She stopped pacing, spinning on one heel to face me, mouth open. "_What_ did you say?"

"You heard me," I said calmly. "I'm giving you a reasonable solution to your current problem, and you get your back up. I have work to do. Either take me up on my offer, or figure it out yourself." I grabbed a datapad and started reading.

Annie was quiet for several long minutes, and I concentrated on my work. Finally I heard her sigh quietly.

"I'm sorry," she said softly.

I looked up and saw the sincerity in her hazel eyes. I softened. "Apology accepted. What are you going to do?"

"Let you train Carth for a few days," Annie said promptly. "Do you want me to take Will then?"

"No, it's fine," I assured her. "You get together with Atton and Mission. Give me a week with Carth," I added. "Let's see what he's really made of."

"Good luck," Annie said wickedly. "I have a feeling he can blow even _your_ serenity."

* * *

_Note to self: Annie is more often than not right, _I thought with a deep sigh as I struggled to contain my growing exasperation.

It was nearly a week later, and I had been drilling both Carth and Will mercilessly. Revan, in addition to meeting with Atton and Mission daily, had been working with Jennet, who needed far less attention than her husband and his former aide. Will had asked numerous intelligent questions as we worked; Carth was nearly silent. He performed extremely well, however. I was starting to consider that cliff maneuver myself.

"All right," I halted the sparring match between them and they turned to face me expectantly, identical looks of respectful attention stamped on their faces. From Will, it was simply that. From Carth, I was dangerously close to backhanding him. Instead, I took a mental breath and smiled serenely.

"Will, report to Jolee and work with him and Dustil. Good job today," I smiled at my Padawan and he bowed out of the room.

Carth gave him a casual wave and snagged a towel to wipe his face. I turned to him, hands on hips, looking him up and down. There was something going on in his head that I couldn't put my finger on, and intruding on his thoughts was getting me nowhere. He was much too used to hiding what was on his mind, and although he had been accused, along with me, of being too trusting, I knew this was not really the case. Revan had confided in me the struggle she had had in getting past his giant durasteel walls during the Star Forge mission, and why. I understood better than most how difficult it was, once betrayed, to trust anyone again. Only Revan and Atton could truly accuse us of being trusting fools, mostly because they were suspicious of people in general to almost the point of paranoia.

Carth turned and caught me watching him. He smiled briefly and eyed me quizzically.

"Something on your mind?" he asked, grabbing a water bottle and chugging a good sized gulp.

"Yes," I said, giving him my best hard stare. "Is there some sort of bet going on I don't know about?"

He swallowed, wiped his mouth and stared at me. "Come again?"

"It's just you've had Revan, me, Jolee and half the Order riding you hard, and you've never come close to really losing your temper or your concentration. I'm pleased with your ability to focus, but concerned that you're overcompensating for starting training so late in life. Not to mention getting most of your instruction from your wife," I said frankly. "The Order doesn't expect perfection, nor will we throw you out now that we've accepted you into our ranks. What's going on with you? You hardly even ask any questions, and that concerns me more than keeping your cool."

"Would it help if I constantly pestered you with questions that I can figure out the answers to by observation?" he asked, quirking his eyebrow at me.

I gave him my most regal look, drawing myself to my full height. I still didn't reach his chin, but that glance had kept a ship full of soldiers under control for two years. He smiled blandly back.

"You," I said in my commander's voice, "are a great deal of trouble. No wonder Revan wants to throttle you."

"She does, hm?" Carth shrugged. "I thought that might be the case when you took over. May I ask what I'm doing wrong?"

"Nothing," I answered succinctly.

He looked at me consideringly, then nodded, a small smile crossing his face. "Ah."

We regarded each other in complete understanding. I nodded, and offered a small smile in return. "Exactly," I said quietly. "What would you do if you had a recruit as perfectly behaved as you are?"

"Start checking his psychological profile," he answered promptly. "Ride him until I see the cracks in his armor."

"Precisely."

"Caught in my own net," he mused.

I looked at him narrowly, gauging the niggling sense that something else was going on here against his seemingly innocent pose. "Okay, spill," I ordered.

"What?" he asked, blinking. I wasn't fooled, though, and he knew it.

"There's something going on here you're not sharing with anyone. Not even Annie. If you'd rather talk to her, I understand, but you need to get it out sometime," I said gently.

"It's nothing, honestly," he said, taking another gulp of water.

"Then you shouldn't have any problem talking about it," I said reasonably.

"Rev warned me that you're more stubborn than her," Carth muttered. "I couldn't believe it at the time."

I didn't say anything, just smiled and waited patiently.

Carth sighed, and sat on a nearby bench, shaking his head. "You're right, partly. I am overcompensating because I'm getting close to fifty and I'm starting a whole new life that is more physically challenging than anything I've ever done. Plus, it's my wife that's my Master; I want to keep those relationships completely separate."

"Fair enough," I sat next to him, leaning my elbows on my knees. "Would transferring your apprenticeship to another Master help?"

"I don't want that," he said sincerely. "I like working with Rev, really. I get to see a whole different side to her, for one. And she's an amazing teacher."

"She is," I agreed. "But if it stresses you to the point of completely internalizing everything, it's not helping your training."

"I'm not stressed," he asserted. "I'm just trying to learn everything I can before she leaves. And…I've been in charge of a lot of training, you know. I pretty much know the drill. I'm not used to needing a lot of instruction anymore and I always learned best by watching and doing. I do ask questions, but I've spent the last twenty years or so figuring things out for myself. Hard to break the habit."

"Makes sense," I grinned. "And the fact no one can make you mad?"

"Give me a break there," he laughed. "I'm in charge of over four thousand soldiers cooped up on a starship for months at a time. I wouldn't get far leading them if every little thing sets me off."

"True," I considered. "But even so, I know Annie. She's pulled out all the stops and she could provoke the most die hard pacifist to murder."

He grinned impishly. "I'm not most die hard pacifists."

"This isn't a power struggle, is it?" I asked sharply. I was pretty sure that wasn't it, but one never knew.

He looked up in honest surprise. "Gods, no. I am not in any way jealous or wary of the power Rev holds, nor do I feel threatened by her. We both have our place," he added, nudging my arm with his elbow.

"All right," I said, smiling. "I apologize. But I had to ask."

"Of course you did," he agreed. "You're responsible for us all in the Order. Don't worry, Dree. Rev and I will find our balance. And I'll stop being Perfect Recruit, okay?"

I laughed. "Deal." I gazed at him thoughtfully. "You're worried about the mission." I said it lightly enough, but caught the momentary darkening of his eyes before he turned away.

"Yeah. Aren't you?" he asked, busying himself with his towel and water bottle again.

"Of course," I said quietly. "But they can take care of themselves. Even Mission." Knew it was his daughter that he was most worried about, but the thought of Revan getting caught and probably executed petrified both of us. I had the added fear of what would happen to Atton as well.

"How do you keep so calm about it?" Carth asked curiously. "Half my family is going into the belly of the beast, and I have to stop thinking about it or go insane. And Mission…" he trailed off for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose, head down. When he looked up again I caught a glimpse of the sheer terror he'd been hiding. "She's so young. She's smart, and survived for years on one of the worst planets in the galaxy as a child, but…"

"She's your daughter, and you can't protect her while she's gone," I said quietly. "I know. I tried to talk her out of it, you know. But she insisted, and truthfully, she's the best choice to go. She can do things with a computer that impresses even Bao Dur. She could very well be the key to stopping the Sith from entering known space for generations. And she's strong, determined, and has too much to live for to fail. She'll come home. All three of them will. And we'll be there to bring them back."

"I hate being backup," Carth grumbled. "I'd much rather be in the thick of it. And you didn't answer my question."

"I had to learn control at an early age," I shrugged. "Things get…difficult if I lose it."

"I see," he said, even though it was clear he didn't.

"It's complicated," I said carefully. "I was very powerful as a child, and if I got angry or scared, I couldn't always control what could happen."

He looked me over, his eyes thoughtful. "I think I understand things better now," he said slowly. "Just how powerful _are_ you?"

"I don't know," I said honestly. "I hope I'll never have to find out."


End file.
